Storm In A Teacup
by llacerta
Summary: The Future Part 1. When something happens at Monsters, Inc., sparking his curiosity, and figures from the past reappear, Randall finds himself involved with an event that will effect the rest of his life. Will not be finished
1. Number 14, Monstropolis High Street

Okay, so this is my first story in the 'Future' sequence, set after Randall's 'banishment'. Now, before we start, I want to ask a quick (but obscure) question- does anyone know, approximately, how long it would take to get from Louisiana to England, using pretty much any mode of transport? It'd be really helpful, if anyone knows, to say so in a review. Thanks!

Oh, and of course, the disclaimer- I do not own anything that Pixar owns. Easy enough. And, in the words of...someone, "You no touchy my characters!" (It's actually meant to be, 'you no touchy my slorgs!', but I adapted it.)

Storm In A Teacup

Chapter 1- Number 14, Monstropolis High Street

"_Storm Blue_ or..._Lightening Blue_?"

"Is there any difference?"

"Well, they cost the same. _Storm Blue_'s a little darker, though, more moody."

"Perfect."

"Actually, I think it's a bit _too_ dark..."

"Which is exactly why we're gonna get it." He hefted four large paint cans into their rusty old trolley, and dusted his hands off, momentarily flashing a teasing grin.

They moved onto the next aisle, Zephyr leading and Randall, pushing the overloaded trolley, lagging behind. He hated shopping, and the grimace, which, as a matter of fact, happened to be his current auto-pilot, and that had been resumed after this little discussion, proved it. Randall growled; one of the wheels on the trolley was bent, making the cart leer towards the left and bash into the shelves.

"We need some accessories." Randall left the trolley where it was, and patted quickly up to Zephyr, panting a little, brows furrowed.

"What do ya mean, 'accessories'?" he sneered, emphasizing the quoted word sarcastically.

"Stuff to make our shop look, well..." Zephyr shrugged. "Nice."

"I'm sure it'll be fine _without_ these 'accessories'." Randall stopped suddenly, grabbing Zephyr's hand before she could get _her_ hands on some pink cushions she had just spotted in the next row. "Let's just do all of the hard graft to begin with, and worry about the rest of it later, huh?"

"Fine," Zephyr grumbled. "Hey...where's the trolley?"

"I left it back there; one of the wheels is bent, and it's decided to play drunk."

"Yeah," Zephyr nodded. "Of course." And before Randall could begin his protest, holding up a finger in anger, she continued, "Just get on with pushing the trolley, so we can pay for the stuff. And do me a favour- don't injure or kill- or just physically harm anyone in _general_ on the way, okay?"

Their shop, though small and cramped and, at that moment, eerily bare, had a relatively prime location near the conclusion of Monstropolis High Street, close to where a lot of pedestrians would pass by. They had bought it a good two weeks ago, and included in the sale had been the upstairs two-bedroomed flat- equally as small, but positively cosy.

Three large panes of glass were positioned around the crumbling green front door of the main shop, and, being the only source of light, and remaining with over a decades worth of grime and dust, the whole room itself was startlingly dark. Randall had planned to give the windows a once-over the previous week, but circumstances had caused the idea to be delayed until that day, and as he and Zephyr entered their new home for only the third time, he silently made a note of it, adding it to his already lengthened to-do list; the wooden floorboards desperately needed a sanding.

Along with Zephyr, he dumped their numerous shopping bags down onto the dirty, bare floor, sighing with contentment. And, although, as their bags were dropped down, the uppermost layer of dust upon the floor was sent drifting into the air as a cloud of germs, reminding Randall of just how much he and Zephyr had to do, knowing that he actually owned a part of this enterprise made him experience a warm, pleasant feeling that rarely came for the lizard-monster- his life hadn't exactly been full of happiness, let alone luck.

"Tea or Coffee?" Zephyr stroked her chin, pretending to be deep in thought, and eventually decided.

"Coffee, and make it strong."

"A woman after my own heart." Laughing, Zephyr lifted the first paint tin out of one of the bags, the rustling plastic punctuating her soft chuckling. There was a hint of forcedness in her laughs though, and in her next sentence.

"Tell me about it!"

The sun somehow managed to appear twice its usual size through the kitchen's half-open blinds, and its sudden largeness also accounted for its own brightness- it was late afternoon, and should've been a lot darker. The apartment had been sorted out long before the shop below; Randall had been getting increasingly fed up with staying at one of Zephyr's friend's house, and he was sure that Zephyr herself had had mutual feelings.

And, though a few of the rooms were still a little dirty, the whole flat had a strong essence of homeliness about it, as though it was the setting of some fairy tale that had a happy ending, as all fairy tales do. It was this general atmosphere, along with the cost, that had made Zephyr and Randall finally agree to buy the place, and with their business only a staircase away, it was too convenient an offer to miss.

Randall thought about these things as he prepared the refreshments, and, soon enough, his mind drifted to the only concern he had really suffered over the past few weeks- his relationship with Zephyr. At the very beginning of, what Randall had first branded the whole idea of owning a shop, this absurd proposal, they had both agreed to keep it strictly business. They, of course, would remain firm friends, though sometimes Zephyr seemed to imply that she wanted something more out of their interactions.

But, what was worse about the whole situation was the fact that Randall sometimes doubted even being just _friends_ with Zephyr. He certainly had his reasons for not trusting her, but the problem was that the lizard-monster had a lot of questions- questions that (and he almost knew this for a fact) she, Zephyr, could answer. And being friends with her- good friends, maybe even best friends- would get him those answers, answers that he dearly needed to be able to get on with his life.

Randall stopped stirring the liquid and lay the teaspoon on top of a growing pile of washing-up, sighing.

And what made the whole situation even _worse_ was that tiny, minute part of him, deep inside, that wanted to be able to love Zephyr, like he once had all those years ago, back when, just for a little while, he had been happy.

The two mugs were steaming hot, but Randall didn't seem to notice this as he clutched them tightly with a pair of hands, trotting back down the winding wooden stairs that led to the back room of their shop. Zephyr smiled as he arrived, taking her usual mug and beginning to sip her beverage. Randall did this too, completely idle and unaware of anything happening other than the events in his own battered mind.

"Randall?" Zephyr said, spluttering slightly. He looked up slowly. "This is _tea_, deary, didn't you take any notice of what you were doing?" There was no reply, and so Zephyr put her mug on the floor and sat down on its bare wooden boards. "Obviously not," she muttered. Randall seemed happy enough with the tea, though- there were much more important matters on his mind. After five minutes of silence, Randall sitting on the staircase, drinking, and Zephyr testing out the paint, Randall got up, coughing a little, and took a new paintbrush out of a bag.

"I've just thought of something," he said, smiling. "We've gotta name the shop, right?"

"Not now, Randall; let's try the paint out first. Let's just hope _Storm Blue_ is what it looks like on the tin."

"And you're not going to drink your tea?"

"If I'd fancied tea, I would've asked for tea." Randall rolled his eyes and bent over, dunking his paint brush in the mass of blue and revelling in the large blob that had attached itself to the unicorn hairs. He painted for a good five minutes, doing a middle section of a wall, whilst Zephyr remained on the floor, starting with the edging.

"Would you get out of my way? I'm trying to paint down here, and doing the border's a lot more challenging than just splattering paint on walls."

"Ooooh, _some_one's in a mood today!" Randall said, batting a hand. Zephyr narrowed her eyes, took a deep breath, and carried on.

Another five minutes later, and the untouched cup of tea that had been left on the floor was now all over the part of the wall where Randall had been previously.

Randall gulped quickly, looking at where he had just been a second ago, and stared, shocked, at Zephyr.

"What was _THAT _for?!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up.

Randall was surprised by this sudden outburst; Zephyr was usually so calm, so peaceful, always seeming to be without a temper. And now, here she was, throwing tea at the walls, like some mad, enraged monster (which, technically, at that time, she was) that's allergic to tea.

"Nothing," she whispered, no hint of emotion coming through in her voice.

"Nothing?! You could've cut me with that mug! Zephyr, what the hell's WRONG with you?!" On the other hand, Randall wasn't surprised at his _own_ outburst; on the contrary, he actually expected it. "You've been moody all morning, and I just can't see what I've done wrong! Is it about the shop? About...about the décor?" Randall knew that he was missing the reason by a long shot, but pure affection for Zephyr stopped him from pinpointing the real cause of all of this. "Was it something I said?" he murmured quietly, sitting down next to her.

"Yes, it was." Randall shrugged slightly, and then put a hand on Zephyr's shoulder, pulling her gently closer.

"Could you be a little more specific?" Zephyr obviously could- she began talking very quickly, but very quietly, as though she were worried that someone might hear her.

"In the past two weeks, we've talked about a lot of things, mostly to do with the shop, but one subject that seems to be constantly on your mind is about when...when we were in the Human World. You keep going _on_ about the things that happened there, when I've told you SO many times that I just can't explain some things! You _know_ why," she said, glaring at Randall. "And yet you're happy to continue bothering me. Well, I'm just getting sick and tired of you jabbering on about stuff that you don't know even the_ half_ of." Having released the thoughts and feelings that she had kept entrapped for two weeks on the trot, Zephyr stroked Randall's fronds affectionately, and then turned to squeeze him tightly, lovingly. "I'll tell you everything one day. I _promise_," she whispered into his ear.

She let go eventually, and the two of them acted as though their previous conversation had never happened. Randall chuckled at the large tea stain spread across the side of one wall.

"_Storm Blue_ and tea. Lovely combination."

"Like a storm in a teacup!" Randall smiled at the clever pun, then pointed at Zephyr.

"That's perfect..." he said, seeming to be in awe.

"What is?"

"Storm in a teacup...That could be the name of our shop!" Zephyr smiled as though the very idea was ridiculous.

"Randall, that's just pathetic..." she said, shaking her head.

"Well, what's wrong with it?" Randall protested, putting a hand on a hip. "The paint is _Storm_ _Blue_, and the whole 'teacup' part could refer to the café at the back! We _are_ having a café, right?" he added, checking that his facts were indeed true.

"Yeah...I guess...I don't know, though..."

"Do you know any _other_ shop with that name?"

"No..."

"Well, there ya go then." Zephyr took another deep breath, looking at Randall in an almost blissful manner, and took his hand.

"_Storm In A Teacup,_ it is."

The couch sunk down to almost floor level every time its owners would sit on it, but it sure was comfy. The very fabric it was woven of screamed with cosiness, and though, at the same time, it would also scream of bad posture, to sink into it at the end of a hard day's work with your nose to the grindstone, (or your whole body, for that matter- painting had made Randall and Zephyr's joints ache terribly) was a very pleasurable and relaxing way to conclude the working hours.

Hot slime had, of course, been made, (Randall had managed to get the order right this time, which was good practice for his future career of waiting on people as well as running the till at the front of the shop) and as the pair of soon-to-be business monsters gazed into the fireplace before them in silence, the cackle of the flames filling their minds of everything to do with winter- snow, Fredelion (the local holiday, equivalent to our Christmas), and, of course, nights in, sitting by the fire- they had mutually decided that, that evening, they wouldn't talk too much.

Reason Number One For Why These Two Quite Obviously Made A Good Couple- they could just sit there, for hours on end, not needing to say anything to each other, but still managing to have conversations of surprising depth.

"Hey, Zephyr?"

And Reason Number Two For Why These Two Quite Obviously Made A Good Couple (sounds like one of those dating shows, doesn't it?)- when one of them would interrupt this perfect silence, the other wouldn't get in the least bit annoyed. Most of the time, that is.

"Yeah?"

"About the shop...Well, are we having a café or not? I don't really see the point- it's not like anyone will pass by our shop and go, 'oh, look, there's a shop of diverse interest which sells weird objects and books that you can't buy anywhere else, which means that there's a café round the back!'"

"Okay, okay, point taken. But we've just got to advertise- Monsters, Inc. is just down the road, and after everything that's happened there, the second they hear about a new café, the closest café to the company, they're gonna come flocking!"

"Hmm...Yeah, I guess. Was their canteen destroyed as well, then?"

"Yep. You should have a look some time- it isn't a pretty sight." Randall nodded.

"Okay...So that's decided then? Because, y'know, it's gonna make a lot of work- we'll have to do up the back room as well, for the café, and the side room for the kitchen."

"Well, if you're up for it, then I am."

"And..." Randall bit his tongue. He knew that the next subject was something of a touchy nature, but he needed to discuss it, otherwise let guilt overcome him. "And the shares..."

"Ran_dall_..." came the annoyed reply.

"I know, I know...But we've got to talk about this."

"No, we don't," Zephyr muttered sternly.

"It's just that you're paying for so much of all of this, and then we're going fifty-fifty with the profits-"

"Randall, I don't care! Alright? I've _told_ you, I've come into some money, and it's enough for the shop." She got up, putting her empty mug on the table and wrapping her dressing gown tightly around her white structure. "And anyway, you _deserve _fifty percent of the profits- you're putting as much work into this as I am, so stop moaning." Though Zephyr had put up a reasonable argument, Randall still looked slightly disgruntled. "You're sweet, Randall, _really_ sweet, but you shouldn't worry about these kind of things. Now, I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning, huh? Randall?"

"...Yes."


	2. A Bite To Eat

Firstly, I know things were a little bit confusing in the first chapter, though it was more of an introduction than anything else. Hopefully, as the story progresses, things will become a little bit clearer, though chapter five is when things are really beginning to be explained.

A quick thanks to Pitbulllady for informing me on my last question- this will really come in handy later on in the story.

Oh, and someone asked why Randall and Zephyr were owning a shop in the first place? Well, it's a way to earn a living, isn't it? grin

Chapter 2- A Bite To Eat

Another stack of paperwork was brought into the cramped and overflowing office, plopped onto the growing pile before the current CEO of Monsters, Inc., and left for the tired monster to complete when he could manage to spare a minute.

"Thank you, Grace," James P. Sullivan said quite absentmindedly, resting his head on a hand for a moment as his trainee assistant left. He sighed, gazing up at what he was going to be spending the next three and a half hours doing, and slowly picked up his trusty old fountain pen, buckling down to his work.

The next time he looked up at the clock on the wall, the time was just about one 'o' clock- almost lunchtime. Realising just how much time he had spent, (or rather, wasted) on that dratted paperwork, Sulley closed his eyes sadly, the stress that he had been receiving for the past few months getting the better of him for a moment or two, and pressed a little red button on his telephone.

"Hey, Grace. Could I have...honey and ketchup today? Brown, thanks. Yeah, that's great. See you in a minute." He let go of the button, then peered around at his office thoughtfully, awaiting the arrival of his much-needed lunch.

The room was a reasonable size, though it didn't appear to be at first sight- it was filled with paperwork, and examples of the new version of Laugh Canister, and books upon books of the history of the company, along with the employee's records and the new copy of the Employee Handbook,(adapted for the changes in energy source) and post-its littering the floor and every other space that wasn't covered in dust and...was that yesterday's lunch rotting under the desk?

_No, _thought the CEO as a sickly stench reached his nostrils. He had bent down to pick the half-slice of baguette up, but thought better of it as..._something_ green and gooey attached itself to one of his fingers. _It's from three weeks ago...yeuch._

He lifted his head back up again, taking a deep breath to settle his rumbling stomach, and managed a smile at a knock on the door.

"...Sir...?" came a quiet voice, shaky and high. "I-I've brought you your lunch..."

"Brilliant, Grace. Just pop it on my desk," came the reply as Sulley carried on with his work, trying to look busy.

There was a horrible silence for a few seconds as Grace, wringing her wrists with her bottommost set of hands, scanned the desk, panicking. She _wanted_ to put Sulley's lunch on his desk- she had to, really, as he had just told her to- but couldn't manage to find any space and, not having come to terms with the fact that her new boss was actually quite lenient when it came to small details, didn't dare ask where she should put it instead.

"Grace?" Sulley said after a few moments, looking up from his paperwork. And there the monster still stood, not flicking her long, golden hair or making her thin, blue tail writhe like she usually would, but instead standing stock still, with the exception of twiddling her fingers. "Oh..." Sulley looked at desk, understanding why Grace hadn't done what he had told her to, and smiled. "You can just put it on the floor- if you can find any space."

Grace nodded, leaning down and leaving Sulley's lunch next to yet another pile of paperwork, and also making sure that the box lined up accurately with his desk before going out the room and shutting the door softly behind her, not wanting to disturb the CEO any more than she had already.

Sulley had always thought of Grace as a strange sort of girl; she never really made an effort to start up a conversation with him, instead opting to treat him with the respect and, let's be honest, utter fear, which most everyday tyrants deserve. But, even with her friends she chose to be very quiet, only adding her own opinion once everyone else had voiced theirs- Sulley had been watching her in the canteen, once upon a time when there had actually _been_ a canteen, and when he actually had had time to go there for his lunch.

Yet another sigh escaped Sulley's mouth as he thought about all of this. These events seemed to be an eternity and a half ago, and going through them just reminded him of what Monsters, Incorporated had once been, and the company's great success with the new form of energy; laugh energy. But this success had been painfully short-lived, and now random executives from all over the country seemed intent on making the bad situation worse. Sulley had never thought that he would think this, (well, not at work. At home, lying in bed in the middle of the night, not able to get to sleep, maybe, but not at work) but sometimes he found that he had just taken a little bit _too_ much on, becoming the company's CEO.

It should've been easy. It should've been straightforward. It should've worked. But the fact was, it hadn't, and though it wasn't his fault, Sulley was the one that had been left to clear up the mess.

If only he hadn't discovered Laugh Energy. Sure, the world might be in a major energy crisis, but at least _he_ wouldn't be found responsible for it. And, saying that, there _had _been times when he thought that everything that had happened was too good to be true. But that was when everything was fine, everything was perfect.

And now it wasn't, and because things that weren't perfect just didn't happen in Sulley's life, all of this other stuff had come as a shock, almost leaving him without a company to be CEO for.

Sometimes, Sulley would wish a wish that he knew he shouldn't be wishing. Sometimes, Sulley would wish that Boo had never managed to escape into the Monster World, that Waternoose hadn't told his old fellow workmate, Randall Boggs, to build a machine which could extract screams from humans in a very efficient manner, that he hadn't gotten involved with the whole thing. The truth was that he had, though, and if he hadn't, his life would've continued normally, as it always had been, simple and boring.

But did he really want that? Or was the path that fate had chosen more suitable?

Sulley shook his head.

It might've been for him, but for others...

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Sulley, though knowing that it most certainly wasn't Grace, (she was more of a polite rapper) was at a loss as to who it might be. Whoever it was, though, didn't seem to have knowledge of basic manners, and opened the door roughly, sending a few spare pieces of paper flying in the slight wind.

"James Sullivan, CEO of Monsters, Incorporated?" demanded a low voice.

"Yes, hello!" replied Sulley, suddenly nervous. A thought floated across his mind- one which would've been a lot more useful about, say, an hour before.

_No! The meeting! _His eyes flicked up at the clock. _The meeting which should've started...an hour ago..._

"Yes. The meeting." The monster who had just barged in along with several cohorts, as they seemed to be, read the anxious look on the CEO's face easily.

Sulley had a sudden urge to fire his trainee assistant.

And, as though _she_ were reading Sulley's mind, Grace ungracefully toppled in through the office door, panting. All of the room's occupants turned to look at her and, as a reaction, she smiled nervously, tucking the hair that was covering her face messily behind an ear, and adjusted her glasses, steadying her own breathing. Then, making a terrible decision, she introduced the one person in the room who REALLY didn't need to be introduced.

"The Head...of the Associated Board...of Directors, sir..."

"Yes, Grace," Sulley breathed, rubbing the back of his neck, then holding the same hand out to the positively displeased monster standing before him, remembering his own manners and standing up himself. "Good morning, sir, I'm so sorry I forgot the meeting- I've had a lot on my mind lately-"

"Firstly," began the Head of the Associated Board of Directors stiffly, "you most _certainly _should be apologising. I have just spent the last hour waiting for you in the Conference Room and, upon the realisation that you weren't going to be attending the meeting, I chose to come and find you myself. And secondly," he carried on, the already deep frown across his forehead lowering even more so, "it is afternoon."

Sulley forced an uneasy chuckle, but no-one else seemed to find any trace of humour in what the Head had just stated. He stopped quite quickly.

"Sir, have a seat. Candy?" Pushing a little plate of a local delicacy, made out of ingredients that most humans wouldn't really want to know about and shaped into little black blobs, like flies, Sulley sat forward in his chair a little, and straightened his tie at the stern look Herman gave him at the suggestion.

But Herman did accept the offer of resting his three feet for a while, and sat down whilst his two lackeys stayed loyally by his side. They soon went though, at a sharp nod of the head.

Sulley studied the expression on Herman's face as a frightening silence ensued, hoping to figure out what sort of a mood he happened to be in. (As though he needed to...) The deep, heavy eyebrows which usually made Herman's eyes look terribly shadowy were furrowed, making him appear downright nasty, and the three curling horns atop his head seemed to scream threatening messages at Sulley every time the two monsters would meet, like some kind of a plastic action figure with five different phrases that kids would annoyingly make the toy repeat, over and over.

Today's message was as follows;

'I am angry. Therefore, I am not happy. This, in turn, means that I am in a bad mood, and you _know_ that I can do a lot of damage. Hee hee.'

Nothing unusual- those horns always seemed to have a very mocking stance, and what they were saying today, (not literally, of course) was scarily true.

"I'm not happy with the company's progress," Herman said, digging a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Yes, there is progress, but everything's happening much too slowly for my liking. Much too slowly..." A cigar pack was revealed, along with a lighter with the words _You're the boss. Never forget it. Love Mummy_ engraved on a side. "I want to close this particular branch of Monsters, Incorporated _down_." He said the final word as though just saying it would automatically shut the whole place down single-handedly, in its pure heaviness.

"Sir-" Sulley began, ready to put his own case forward. He was, of course, interrupted the moment his mouth opened, leaving him looking like a dazed fish.

"You have already exceeded your time limit. I've given you much too much mercy, and you haven't seemed to have done anything with it."

"Sir, please, give the company another chance! I'm sure that if I, I get my employee's morals up a little more, convince them to spend more time here at the weekend, we'll be able to turn things around! And lots of people have already decided to spend the next few weekends here- it'd be pointless to give up now! All we need is one more chance!"

"No, Mr Sullivan, what would be pointless is giving you that chance. You've had enough opportunities, and I hope you haven't forgotten about that particular case of gross unprofessional misconduct...?" Sulley shuddered at the mentioning of an event he'd much rather forget about. Herman, taking another long draught from his crumbling cigar, resisted the urge to smile. He had the CEO right in a corner- exactly where he wanted him. "Exactly. Which is why I wouldn't be pushing my luck any further than you already have, if I were you. Just let the company die in peace."

"No! No, I will not let something that I've put so much effort into-"

"It's over, James. It's over." Sulley licked his lips, looked down at his desk and the stacks of paperwork upon it, and lowered his head.

"Yes, sir." The words had escaped his mouth before he had truly acknowledged them, but something in his mind was telling him that the Head of the Associated Board of Directors was right. It _was_ over.

"Now, we must start talking about the company's shares- we've got to sort all of the little details out if we're going to close the place down properly. Firstly, I would like you to consider the option of-"

The door slammed open, a green ball rolled through it, and a whole lot of noise filled the room. The green ball suddenly sprung open, revealing two arms, two legs, one eye, and a very big mouth.

"And now, _everybody_ sing the happy song!" blasted the CD player in hallway, an annoying jingle adding to the atmosphere of this very...unusual scene. The green ball, looking like an overripe and very round avocado, sung along to the song and did a little dance with it, then eventually revealed a package. But, by the time the present was shown, Mike had stopped singing and dancing. Actually, he had pretty much stopped moving in general.

"Everybody...sing the happy song...Heh..." He looked up at Sulley, narrowing his eye. "You never said you were having a meeting at lunch!" he muttered quietly, annoyed, and, facing Herman, tried to think of a logical thing to do.

All he happened to come up with was bowing, but as the large, slimy monster gave him a look devoid of any emotion, he thought that he had better shut up and get the hell out of there. Just as he was turning to leave, switching his CD player off (it had been playing the 'Happy Song' all the while) he heard another noise, not from his CD player or himself, but from the monster behind him. It was applause, and not just any applause- it was, dare I say it, _enthusiastic_ applause. Mike's eye widened at the sight of the Head of the Board of Directors, usually known to be a stern man, laughing.

"_That_, my son, was most certainly a glimpse of sunlight on an otherwise cloudy day! Bravo!"

"Thanks!" responded Mike, trying to get used to an audience that actually seemed to appreciate him. "I do birthdays, bar mitzvahs-"

"You can go now, Mike." Sulley, on the other hand, didn't look too happy about all of this.

"Hey, Sul, I got you a present! Thought you might need some cheering up-"

"Not _now_," Sulley insisted, giving Mike a patronising look. Finally, the Cyclops managed to get the hint and left, rejected and showing it, forgetting to close the door behind him.

Two seconds later, a little green head popped round the door.

"I guess you don't want your _present_..."

"Mike, GO! NOW!" The little monster jumped into action, hurriedly closing the door and leaving the two business monsters to it. Sulley smoothed the standing up fur on his arm slowly, and stared directly at Herman, pursing his lips. He didn't want to have the conversation that he knew would follow this distraction.

The _real_ problem was that the conversation he was expecting to have with the Head wasn't going to pan out as he originally anticipated.

"So, Mr Sullivan, what were we talking about before that brilliant interruption?" Herman said in a surprisingly cheerful manner.

"Closing down the company?" Sulley replied reluctantly.

"My boy, whatever for?! I distinctly remember us conversing about giving Monsters, Incorporated another chance!" Sulley blinked. Was it him, or was the Head of the Board of Directors suddenly very...happy? "Surely _you_ don't want the company to be closed down!"

Now, here was a question. Should he remind Herman that before the 'interruption', they were, indeed, talking about how they should go about shutting down the company, or should he just continue as though nothing in the mood of their dialogue had changed?

Well, let's just say that even Sullivan wasn't as stupid as to pass up _this_ kind of opportunity.

----------------------

"So, how'd it go, honey?" Mike groaned noisily at this question, peering up at his fiancée.

"Not as expected...Sulley was halfway through a meeting or something, but it's not as if he'd tell his old best buddy about these kinds of things, is it? NOOO!"

"Oh, my Googly Bear! Well, maybe Sulley forgot to tell you? He _has_ had a lot of things on his mind lately." Celia bent down, caressing the Cyclops's face comfortingly.

"So have I, but _I_ haven't forgotten the meaning of the word 'best friend'!"

"As a matter of fact, that's _two_ words," came another voice, smooth and sarcastic.

"Oh, really? WELL, I DON'T CARE!"

"Tsk, tsk, you really shouldn't be loosing your temper over such small things. Mr Sullivan is the CEO of the company, remember, and whatever surprise you had planned for him, no matter how..._charming_, is probably at the very bottom of his list of priorities. Work _is_ a lot more important than friends, don't forget." The monster smiled, then turned away, narrowing his eyes. "Especially friends like _you_," he added in a sour undertone. "Anyway," Andy continued, taking a few steps back, away from the Reception desk. "It's lunch-time now, and Mr Sullivan will probably be working straight through. Do you fancy accompanying me and a few others of the 'gang' for something to eat- we're heading over to a new café that's opened just down the road, and that substitute cafeteria food turns my stomach."

"Err..." Mike chuckled uneasily- he had become quite close friends with this new guy over the past few months, and didn't feel like letting him down. Nevertheless, he decided that paying a visit to an older friend of his was more important. "I'm sorry, buddy, but, y'know, I really should see Sulley- I mean, Mr Sullivan. He's been pretty down lately, what with everything that's happened in the company, and I still wanna give him his present." Mike shook his head, jumped up to grab the package from the Reception, and clicked his tongue, pretending to aim a gun at Andy. "Catch ya later!" And the little green eyeball was soon out of sight after blowing a quick kiss goodbye to his Shmoopsie Poo.

Andy watched the monster who he had deemed 'that putrid green moron' (behind his back, of course) disappear into the crowd until he couldn't be seen, and went to fetch his friends.

------------------

The front of the shop was decorated in a depressing shade of black, but the golden letters spelling out the shop's name, '_Storm In A Teacup'_ stood out very well against its background, gleaming in the early afternoon sunshine- it was a pleasantly warm day, with blue skies all round. The weather, though, did not help with the shop's image- it looked cramped and stuffy inside, and was, indeed, unbearably hot.

This didn't bother Andy, though- he was here for more than just a bite to eat. He led his friends deep within the shop, folding his devil-like wings to their tightest formation just to be able to squeeze into its narrow isles. As he walked almost the length of the shop, managing to resist the temptation of looking at all of those interesting objects and books, (although his friends didn't- the little music box in the corner that sang Elvis Presley songs once opened was just so _beautiful_...) one of its owners came into sight.

"Morning," the monster greeted, smiling. "And welcome." Andy blinked in an acknowledging sort of way, and turned his head round, feeling his friends' presences- they had finally dragged themselves away from all the pretty objects in the shop, drawn by their own rumbling stomachs.

"Thanks," he finally muttered, not really meaning it. "C'mon, guys...Guys?"

The other monsters had finally seen the owner, and the shocked expressions on their faces said it all.


	3. Chicken

As most Randall-fans should know, today is a sad day. It's been three years since the film came out, and therefore three years since Randall was 'banished'. (I say 'banished' in the loosest of terms, of course.) So, it's mere coincidence that the next chapter of my fic is up today. cough

Chapter 3- Chicken

"Hello? Anyone there?" Andy shook his head. "For pity's sake..." He turned back around to Randall, rolled his eyes very slowly, as though this particular ceiling that he was currently staring at happened to have lovely pictures of female monsters in bikinis all over it, and eyed the door in front of him, ready to ask a question. But before he could utter a word, the monsters behind him came back to life.

"Randall?! What are you doing here?!" Ranft said in absolute astonishment. The others exclaimed similar things, but Randall cut them off before they irritated him any more than they already had done.

"If you're not buying anything, I'd advise for you to _leave_." Andy wasn't at all deterred by this, and asked the previous question.

"The café's through that door, right?" Randall, looking quite bemused as a flashing neon sign above him clearly stated, with an arrow, "Entrance of café through door," (it might've been quite wordy, but he and his business partner had wanted a sign that would mean no-one would ask them of where the café was) and that illuminated his scales quite nicely, tilted his head slightly to the left, narrowing his eyes, and sighed, remembering that now he was in the sales business, he would have to be a lot more polite than usual.

"Yeah..." The niggling little voice in his mind dared him to ask a perfectly normal question, but if the answer had been a blatant 'yes', well, he wouldn't have liked the feeling that he knew he would experience. It was, after all, a 'cause and consequence' sort of situation. But Randall kept his queries to himself- this lot _were _his first set of customers, and it wouldn't do any good angering them now, would it? "Come through." He led the way, enjoying the sudden newly-painted smell that greeted his nostrils upon the entering of the other room, and added a few chairs to the largest chequered-cloth covered table they had to accompany the large number of monsters in his presence.

They took their time settling down, giving Randall the opportunity to grab his orders book and a pencil, and to also retrieve his apron, scolding himself for forgetting such an important detail. As he returned from behind the counter, his brow furrowed at a weird sort of sight, though it had, admittedly, been one he had expected.

Andy was having a stern talk with his friends, who all seemed to be temporarily paralysed, and with Randall's return, their shock grew worse.

"It's...it's HIM! He's actually HERE!" one managed to stutter- the words hadn't come easily. The rest of the group, not including Andy, that is, also started to babble erratically once again; seeing the lizard-monster for a second time had confirmed his existence, and that was, according to them, _not_ a good thing.

"I guess you need a few more minutes to order, huh?" Randall began. In some ways, he had been looking forward to this, but it had been spoilt by two minor setbacks- one, that neither Sullivan nor Wazowski happened to actually be there, and two, that Andy _was_. "Um, I'll just be upstairs," he blurted out before going through the 'Staff Only' door and rushing up to their apartment.

The front door was open, and Randall stormed through it, catching Zephyr just closing the 'Accounts' book.

"Oh, hey Randall," she said, getting up from her desk. When she had had a proper look at him, putting the book of accounts back on a shelf for the time being, she smiled. "You shouldn't be panicking- I was about to come down with your coffee. God, you're desperate for that stuff sometimes! And I thought _I _couldn't live without my daily dose of caffeine...Randall...?" She stopped for a moment, observing her partner, who was now standing quite still with a hand covering half of his face. "Have we got any customers down there?" Zephyr carried on, though a lot quieter than before. A nod was enough of an answer. "Well why are you up here? We can't leave them on their own!" Now it was Zephyr's turn to sigh. "You've seen someone you know, right?" She put an arm comfortingly around Randall's shoulder, massaging his scales. "I _told_ you that being so close to the company would be a problem, but you just didn't on, you need to be able to handle this."

"I know."

"Then get down there and handle it! What's the worse that could happen? What's-his-name...uhh...Wanooti or whatever, he isn't down there, is he?"

"Wazowski. No."

"So what's the problem?"

"Nothing." Randall grasped one of Zephyr's hands, taking a deep breath, and smiled. It was a horrible smile- clearly fake- but it was a smile, nevertheless. "I'm fine, just first-customer jitters, y'know? And I _had_ better get down there- they've had enough time to make their minds up, though, by the sounds of it, they might've just lost their appetites." Randall's previous statement was practically confirmed as the continuous hyper jabbering from the floor underneath reached the two monster's ears. "Anyways, what are YOU doing up here? Chicken...?" he added playfully.

"No! I just...needed to sort out the account, that's all." Randall grinned- properly, this time.

"Hey, how about, when I believe you I will- and I guarantee this- eat the Accounts book? Ya like that? Cos it's never gonna happen!"

"I'll just start ripping up those pages into bite-size chunks for you, since I'm going downstairs."

"Oooh," Randall teased, creeping around Zephyr in pretend admiration, "I bow down to your bravery! Your example will teach all of us common mortals how a real _god_ should behave!" Zephyr chuckled.

"Good, coz you need it!" The stairs were hungrily empty, and Randall waited for Zephyr to go down first.

"Well?" Zephyr gritted her teeth, grumbling, and rolled her eyes.

"Fine."

They went through the hallway, side by side, and opened the door to the café. The intriguing discussion that had been held just two moments ago abruptly ceased and the singing wind chimes hung up by a fan made the only noise in the room. Everyone there, other than Zephyr, (though she was very tempted to) looked around at Randall, and his third appearance seemed to settle any doubts.

"You're actually here!" a monster exclaimed- one that didn't know Randall personally, but knew of his little...adventure that had been re-enacted as the storyline for a certain company play. No-one else said anything, but their reactions varied greatly- Needleman and Smitty sat jittering in their seats after a quick yelp, Craigan, a monster that Randall had known during his time at Monsters, Inc., and who also happened to be an ex-Scarer, looked down at the table-cloth, innocently playing with his napkin, Ranft, well, drooled, Waxford _really _felt like rubbing his eyes, and Andy sat and stared in a demeaning sort of manner, arms folded and mouth the shape of an upside-down boomerang.

And Randall? Well, he put his apron on, got his order book out, growled, (that little voice in his mind was still there and still daring him) and put on the blankest expression his muscles would allow.

"So, boys. Ready to order?"

---------------------

"Hmm...okay. Well, your degrees and such look pretty good...your CV is impressive...I'm sure we'll be able to find a place for you around here somewhere. But I'd just like to ask a quick question- why, exactly, do you want to work here, rather than, say, the Monsters, Incorporated at Screamsville? And what makes you the perfect candidate?" Sullivan took off his reading spectacles, leaning back in his genuine leather chair and closing his applicant's CV folder.

"B-b-b-b-because it's...near...?"

"NEXT!"

"Mike!" exclaimed Sulley, surprised at his friend's sudden decision.

"Sul, he isn't good enough!" said the Cyclops, not bothering to keep his voice down. But what was done was done- Grace had popped her head around the door and had led the monster away, thanking him for coming and gently showing him the way to the exit.

The next applicant soon came in, and the same question was asked.

"Wow...that's...err...quite a question," he chuckled, pushing his overly-large glasses up a Pinocchio-sized nose. There was a quietness that the monster had never experienced before as he struggled to find the answer.

"NEXT!" The quietness soon disappeared, though.

Once, again, the same question was asked, first to a supposedly handsome monster with a big set of impossibly shiny teeth...

"Okay, my friends, I will tell you a story," he began dramatically. "I was crossing the road the other day, helping several elderly ladies as I went, carrying their shopping, what the hey- I carried _them_! Anyway, just as I was crossing the road, I saw this BEAUTIFUL building and BANG! I knew what I had to do. I will do my utmost best, as an honest and quite handsome citizen of this city, to help this company's cause, and, hey, if you're lucky, you might catch me at one of my autograph sessions in the Games Room!" Weird looks were passed from one side of the room to the other.

"NEXT!"

Then to a scientist with shocking pink hair...

"If you base the conclusion on the theory of probability, I have a sixteen to three chance of-"

"NEXT!"

Then to a teenage girl...

"Why do you hate me so much? Why does life HATE ME?!" (Sobbing followed.)

"Uhh...I'm sorry, but can we have the next applicant...? Like now...?" Mike swallowed and added in an undertone, "Maybe sometime before she floods the whole company...?"

After the last applicant had left, evening was beginning to draw in, and Mike went around Sulley's office, switching the lamps on and humming. Grace had just come in with another stack of paperwork, and Sulley had decided that he was to sacrifice this evening, dedicating it to the 'Brand New Safety Features' that some other company were offering concerning exploding canisters. Mike was annoyed at this- he had been many times before- but he was most certainly relentless. There was something about his not-accepting-no-for-an-answer attitude that was managing to wind Sulley up that particular chilly evening.

"I told you Sul, if you do this again I'm-"

"Not leaving the office, I know, I know."

"Sulley-"

"Mike, would you PLEASE just be quiet for a bit? I need to work! I've had a bad day today, and those applicants...well, they weren't exactly impressive, so if you want to be a good friend, just leave me in peace for a little while."

"_Weren't exactly impressive?!_ Sul, they were RUBBISH! _SCARILY _RUBBISH! Half of 'em need to go to MENTAL HOSPITALS, and the OTHER half- I don't even WANT to talk about the OTHER HALF!"

"Mike..." Sulley whined, putting his pen down and giving his friend a very stern glare. It soon eased off, though Mike had finally gotten the idea.

"Fine fine fine, I'll go. You were never like this before though, Sul." He opened the door, realising how weak their relationship had become. "You've changed."

Three hours and a stack of paperwork later, Sulley had finished. He had gotten round to closing the curtains and was ready to go home, but a single piece of paper had caught his eye just as he was about to depart. His overcoat was on, his briefcase was packed and ready, but he was sure of a sleepless night if he didn't look at this final sheet. A horrible understanding washed over Sulley like a sea of sand- it got into his eyes and ears and mouth.

It was true what Mike had said; Sulley would never have worried about the one little bit of paper. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't have really worried about _anything_, before. But now, leaving this final bit of work behind, even _thinking_ about leaving this final bit of work behind made him experience a very sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though his lunch had come back to life and was growing in his tummy at a rapid rate.

Sulley dumped his briefcase down, dragging his tail back over to his desk. The paper felt rough to his fingers- rough and rigid. He unfolded it, and his eyes popped out of his head.

_WErE coMiNG. THe ComPANy wIlL bE DeAD bEfoRE LoNG, LiKe YOu. bE ReaDY tO tAsTe thE FlaMEs._

It wasn't signed.


	4. Fan Clubs

This chapter is sort of leading up to finding out what actually happened when Randall and Zephyr were in the Human World, but I thought I'd be mean and make you wait yet another chapter before anything big is revealed.

Oh, and just to say, the whole swim thing when the guys are odering in this chapter was...errm..._influenced_ by an episode of none other than the brilliant Spongebob Squarepants.

Chapter 4- Fan Clubs

The two flute glasses chinked crisply as they were tapped together, and the little bubbles clinging onto the inside of the glasses were suddenly released at the motion.

"To our first week in the world of shop-owning!" Zephyr said proudly, taking a sip of the local beverage.

"Our first week," Randall mimicked broodingly, also taking a long and enjoyable swig.

The evening, so far that is, had been completely perfect and amazingly error-free, which, in turn, made Randall all the more apprehensive. The restaurant was perfect, the music was perfect, and even the little fish in the tank that was sunk into the side of the bar seemed to swim around in perfect circles. So, because it was currently the only thing that Randall hadn't been able to scrutinize yet on the account of the fact that it hadn't actually arrived yet, the food was _meant _to be terrible- sod's law had practised itself on the lizard-monster many times before.

But this evening, somehow, was destined to be different; it wasn't the food that was going to spoil it, but something much, much worse.

Randall's fingers tapped against the table-top irritably, causing Zephyr to raise her eyebrows questionably.

"What's taking them so long?" came the answer. "I mean, for Pete's sake, it's just a coupla steaks-"

"_Randall_." Clutching the side of the table, Zephyr narrowed her eyes warningly. "Don't spoil this evening, _please_. I know, and you know, that we both just want to enjoy our first night off in a whole month, so why don't we just sit back...relax..." She finally smiled. "...and enjoy it?"

"Uh, because they're taking too long with our food, maybe?" A waiter that had just happened to be passing by was immediately called down, much to Zephyr's dismay. She knew for a fact that her efforts to stop all of this would be completely wasted, so she rested her face on a hand and watched. "Waiter? We've been waiting for our food for nearly an hour, now-"

"Actually, it's been about twenty minutes," Zephyr butted in- she just couldn't resist.

"Alright, _half_ an hour, and we've never been here before-"

"Yes, we have, Randall."

"Okay, maybe once or twice-"

"Four times, actually."

"OKAY! Alright! I get – the idea." The waiter curled a tentacle.

"Zo what exactly iz your complaint, zir?" he asked, leaning into Randall's face. The lizard-monster shook his head.

"Forget it." The waiter now having departed, Zephyr had begun to titter to herself, the look on Randall's face being particularly humorous- he was staring at her sternly.

"What?" she said, still chuckling and trying to sound as nonchalance as possible. "Oh come on, Randall, you've got to admit that was funny!"

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with you," said her partner, managing to see the humour in the situation. "And if you thought the look on _my_ face was funny, you should've looked at _his_! 'Zo, what exactly iz your complaint, zir?'" Randall's imitation of the French-sounding waiter was scarily believable, but also exaggerated, and by the time their food had arrived, Zephyr was in fits of laughter, especially since the food had been served by none other than 'That Fake French Guy' himself.

Looking at the food that had just been laid before him made Randall feel even queasier, if that was what he was actually feeling. Zephyr had looked so incredibly beautiful, sitting there and laughing, that Randall had lost his appetite completely, and even a general sense of where he was and what was happening. All that mattered right then was appreciating the work of art before him...

"Randall, the steak doesn't look _that_ bad, does it?" Randall blinked.

"Wha...?"

"The steak. The steak is good."

"Um...am...I meant to know what you're...?"

"Why were you staring at me?!" Randall's eyes widened in realisation- he had finally come back to earth and was able understand what Zephyr had been talking about.

He laid an arm on the table, pushing his plate aside. "I need a reason to stare at you?" he said sweetly. However, Zephyr was not deterred.

"Yes. You do." She too pushed her plate to one side, leaning forward so the candlelight etched each little nick and scratch in her worn skin. "That is, if you think of us as friends." Rolling his eyes, Randall suddenly buried his face in his hands, slowly rubbing the scales near his temples- he knew exactly what was coming. "But if you think of us as something more..."

"Oh, Zeph, please..."

"_You're_ the one who always wants to talk about this, and now I am, you're complaining?"

"I can't trust you. You know that, and you know why."

"So if I said that I'm prepared for this relationship to go onto the next level-"

"What relationship?!" Randall exclaimed, his eyes alight. "We're business partners, nothing more!"

"So what are we doing here, then? Look around, Randall. Do you see anybody at any table that _aren't_ kissing, or talking about their relationship, or even just thinking about it? If we were gonna talk business, we would've gone to that posh diner down the road." Zephyr slowly put her hand over one of Randall's, savouring the soft touch. "But the thing is, we're not at that posh diner down the road. We're here, where all the couples go out for their first date or to propose or celebrate their anniversary." The grip got slightly tighter. "And if you say that you don't think of this as your first date, I won't believe you."

Randall quickly moved his hand away, curling his fingers and eventually burying his face once more. He spoke in this position, his voice softly muffled.

"In my dreams, I see you. I always see you, because you're always on my mind." Now he had started, and had gotten a little more confident, his hands were gradually lowered to reveal a warmth in Randall's eyes that few beings would ever see. "And whenever I see you, I get this weird feeling...I don't know what it is, but it's always there, like you are." The little section in Randall's brain dedicated to controlling what comes out of his mouth realised that everything he happened to be saying was a lot more emotional than usual, and decided that it would be best to cut him off before things got out of hand. "Oh, I don't know what I'm thinking..."

"You obviously do. Everything that you just said seemed to be really thought out, as though you've wanted to say it for a long time, and you've been saying a lot of stuff, a lot of feelings, in only a few words..." There was a pause. Zephyr took a deep breath. "But there are three words...that haven't been said. I know I can say them, and _mean_ them, but...can you?" Randall swallowed.

"You might be able to do this sort of thing with ease, but this is a lot harder for me! I can't just...I can't..."

"I know, Randall, I know."

"I'm sorry. Really, I-"

And then sod's law came unto its own.

--------------------------

The glass shattered, looking like an intricate spider's web for a second or two before it was hit once more, this time causing it to crack into hundreds of minute pieces that were sent flying. There were screams and wails, and gunshots punctuated the terrible commotion as customers ran around, trying to dodge the bullets. Tables were knocked over, sending the food and plates crashing onto the floor and making the entire surface of the restaurant floor slippery.

The first thing that Randall had noticed was the candle directly in front of him going out. He noticed this because Zephyr's face had been lovingly lit up by its flames, and now it wasn't.

The second thing that Randall had noticed was a large monster falling on top of their table, and a key thought that had ran through his mind was stupid, but understandably so- these sorts of situations didn't happen everyday.

_That guy just knocked my steak on the floor! I hope he's gonna pick up the bill, the idiot._

They actually happened about once a week or so, but that isn't the point.

It took a few mind-numbing seconds for him to realise what was actually going on, and as he looked back at Zephyr in the semi-darkness, (the lights had gone out) it took him a few more seconds to realise that she was currently scared witless.

"Zephyr?" he managed to gasp out, before a monster whacked him round the head with the butt of a gun. Randall's chair toppled over with him, and if things weren't already dark enough, someone decided that the best thing to do with Randall was to step on him.

The smell was powerful and overwhelming to say the least, but he was more concerned about the whereabouts of his business partner more than anything else. Randall waited for a moment, opening his eyes and trying to focus.

Nothing happened, and the clawed foot was applying more and more pressure as the turmoil raved on above. Groaning in pain and feeling as though his head was about to burst, Randall grunted in absolute effort, nearly managing to turn invisible. This only lasted a second, though, and he quickly appeared again, absolutely exhausted.

"Bye bye...!" The monster that was holding him prisoner leaned down and leered at him, grinning with a mouthful of yellow, crooked teeth.

The pressure increased just a little more...and then was released. And the monster fell on top of him.

"Eugh!" Randall yelped as he got his breath pushed out of him.

"Oh, sorry!" came another voice, recognisable as Zephyr's. She hefted the unconscious monster over, rolling him to one side to uncover a breathless lizard-monster. "You okay?" She then offered him a hand, lifting him unsteadily to his feet. Everything was blurred and had a twin for a little while before his eyes focused, and the scene before him came into view.

It was a new form of the word 'chaos', with the lights flashing on and off, momentarily lighting up the piles of customers spread around the floor and the remainder still running around, trying to reach the exits. The monsters that had triggered this bedlam were noticeable by one feature only- the large guns that they carried- though they did not seem keen to use them for anything but presence. The screaming had not stopped.

Then, a large monster made a dramatic entrance. He stepped through a hole where a rectangular pane of glass once was, wielding a gun larger than anything either Randall or Zephyr had ever seen, and folded his upper set of arms. He stood still for a few seconds, his face hidden in a shadow, and scanned the room, though no-one knew what he was looking for.

In a second, he had seemed to have spotted it, and stormed over to Zephyr, cocking his gun threateningly.

"Randall!" Zephyr wailed, trying to get away. The monster was much too fast, and pinned her against a wall, causing a painting to crash down onto the floor, and shoved Randall over. The lizard-monster fell hard onto the floor, and as a spasm of pain spread through his left side, Zephyr's cries for help seemed to penetrate his ears. "Please, someone!"

"I wouldn't make a scene, Miss Stefani. You won't be doing yourself any favours," came a deep and rumbling voice- that of the unidentified monster. He held Zephyr's neck in one hand, lifting her off the floor, and leaned close to her face, whispering something to her in his still booming tone. Randall wasn't able to hear a word, but gathered all of his strength to get up and help his business partner. It took him a while though, and by the time he was standing up, the large monster had roughly dropped Zephyr as though she was an inanimate object, and had shouted "SoHH-ers, MOVIN' OUT!" With a turn of his tail, he was nearly out the door, but managed to remember something before he left.

"And YOU!" he called out in the direction of Randall. "YOU DIDN'T SEE ANY OF THIS, DID YOU?! RIGHT?!" Randall nodded- what else could he do?- and then, once he was certain that the monster was gone, went over to Zephyr's side, helping her to her feet as she had done only minutes before.

"When we get home," he said breathlessly, "you...are gonna tell me..._everything._"

-------------------

A fire had been lit, beverages had been made, and first aid had been applied. Randall sat on the sofa, reaching out to take his cup of hot slime- it was far too late for coffee, (though this hadn't stopped him from begging Zephyr for some)- and recoiled, hands shaking with pain. Zephyr took her seat next to him, noticeably further away from him than usual so she was almost off the sofa itself, and refused to speak.

"Zephyr...How did that guy know you? What happened? What were they doing? _Why?_" The questions came out rapidly, one after the other, and there was no stopping them. "Why won't you tell me all of this stuff? You've been saying for ages that you would one day, the perfect day- isn't today, now, the perfect day? Why do you have to keep all of these secrets from me? I don't understand!" There was no answer, just an edgy silence and a quiet slurp as Zephyr took another sip of her drink. Randall closed his eyes, sinking lower into the sofa, and sighed forcefully.

When he opened his eyes again, Zephyr was gone.

"Zephyr...?" He struggled to sit up properly- his head was thumping relentlessly, and movement only made matters worse- but not seeing any sign of Zephyr, not even her mug, was worrying him. The last time someone had just gone, they hadn't come back, and this was too much of a déjà vu to ignore. "Come on, Zephyr, this is stupid..." When he found himself saying the same words, even in the same tone of voice, as previously, his will-power increased and he got up with relative ease. He walked around the sofa, taking his time, and tried her bedroom.

It was dark and, more importantly, empty. Next, he tried his own bedroom, and then the kitchen, and finally the bathroom, which was, for some reason, locked. Randall's heart-rate had gone up dramatically, his breathing had become unsteady, and everything began to blur.

This couldn't be happening.

"ZEPHYR! ZEPHYR, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

"What's with all the shouting-"

"Oh, GOD!" The bathroom door had finally opened, and a pink-eyed Zephyr had emerged. Randall leapt forward to hug her, but then remembered that he was supposed to be angry with her. "Zephyr...I thought you'd gone...!"

"Gone?" said Zephyr incredulously. "HelLO, I own half of the shop downstairs, for Pete's sake! I'm not just going to bugger off-"

"Well, you'll wish you'd had after I'm done with you." The anxious tone of the conversation had suddenly turned very sour. Randall held Zephyr's neck as the other monster had done before, and pinned her to the wall, taking care as so not to actually hurt her. "Now, I'm going to ask a few questions, and you're gonna answer them, no questions asked- other than the ones asked by me. Understand?"

"Why are you doing this!?" Zephyr rasped, her chest heaving.

"Because it's the only way I'm ever going to get anything out of you." Randall was feeling more ill than before all of this, but continued relentlessly- he'd been waiting for this moment for a very long time, and though it wasn't panning out exactly as he had planned, it was close enough. "Okay. Firstly, how did that guy know you?"

"I can't...answer..." The grip got tighter. "...can't...when you're holding...neck..." And then loosened until Randall was just holding her in place. He gave her a few seconds to catch her breath, and shoved her back against the wall when she looked like she was still refusing to answer. "Okay, okay! He knows me from...Remember Uni? D'you remember the...thing that went on, that caused my banishment?"

"The thing that your father organised?"

"Yes! The other monster, he was involved with it all too."

"But I thought you weren't into all of that anymore?"

"I'm not, I swear!" Zephyr's brain went into overdrive to find a reasonable excuse. "There...there was probably just some misinformation, that's all."

"And the SoHH?"

"The what?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. That other guy in the restaurant said it, and when he did, I was sure that I had heard of it somewhere else. And I had. I remembered." Randall let go of Zephyr, but gave her a firm look as if to say that just because he was giving her a bit more space, it didn't mean that the inquiry was over. "You know the whole...Scream Extractor thing?" Zephyr nodded slowly as Randall said these words- she knew how much it hurt him to talk about it all. "One evening, I had gone down to the hideaway to carry on building it, and I found someone else there. I can't remember his name, but when I looked through his bag, I found a letter, and it mentioned the SoHH. Actually, now I think about it...it was written by some director or something of the SoHH itself." A slight smile edged across his face. "Problem was, by the time I had read it through, the guy had gone. Disappeared. Only a kid, by the looks of him, and already involved in some illegal corporation..."

"How do you know it's illegal?"

"By the way they're going about everything- guns, shooting stuff for no reason, shouting, hiring kids- every day sort of thing for illegal corporations." Randall's eyes had softened, but he still needed answers. "So, who are they? The SoHH?" Zephyr opened and closed her mouth several times whilst thinking of what to say, and eventually came to a conclusion- to say nothing at all. "Please, Zeph," Randall began, his emotions getting the better of him. "If...if we're to have a relationship, we've got to be honest with each other." This tilted the scales.

"I used to work for them- the SoHH. And yes, it's illegal. But that's all I can say-"

"You wouldn't grace me by actually telling me what 'SoHH' stands for, would you?"

"Society of Human Haters."

"Original. What's their job- other than to hate humans, of course?"

"I can't say. I've already told you too much." _Now_ who was Zephyr reminding Randall of?

"Marie..." he whispered under his breath.

"What?"

"You wouldn't, by any chance, have heard of a girl called Marie Boggs, would you?"

"No...I don't think so. Why? Is she a relative of yours?"

"She...She was." Randall gulped, his efforts to hold back the tears causing a bout of dizziness to overcome him- the previous knock on his head was still having after-effects- and he slowly sunk down to the floor, clutching his head.

"Ran, are you alright?" Zephyr's voice was just a collection of incomprehensible echoes by this point, and Randall's head felt like a helium balloon, rising up. This was actually just Zephyr lifting his head off the floor and dragging him round to the sofa, but Randall was in such a state that he daren't open his eyes. Tears had begun to trickle down his face, and Zephyr brought the softest blanket they owned out of the cupboard underneath her bed, laying it over Randall like the first thick layer of snow in winter.

"Shhh..." she hushed comfortingly as Randall's head lolled to one side. "Everything's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be alright..."

-------------------

"Good morning, and welcome to _Storm In A Teacup_. We're doing a special today- two cups of coffee for the price of one." Zephyr got out her notebook, sniggering as Randall threw her an aggravated glare from behind the counter. He wasn't very happy about 'today's special'- coffee, to Randall, was much too precious to just be giving away like insurance leaflets. "What's your order?" She then waited, hoping that this lot wouldn't request what every other lot had.

"Hey, can we get served by that other guy over there? What's-'is-name, Randall or something?" She gritted her teeth.

"Of _course._" Taking off her apron and practically throwing the notebook at Randall, Zephyr stormed over to take her usual place behind the counter. Randall sighed.

"I guess they didn't order the coffee, huh?"

"Shut up Randall, and go serve your fan club." The lizard-monster rolled his eyes.

"Yeesh, it's not as if _I _asked 'em to join..." He strode over to the only occupied table, the one by the window, and asked in a bored sort of way, "What's your order gonna be?"

"_See,_ I TOLD you it was him," one monster muttered to another, throwing his pal a haughty sideways glance and hoping that Randall wouldn't notice. Unfortunately, Randall had noticed.

"Yep, it's me," he began sarcastically, "today's star attraction! I do a wide range of circus tricks, including juggling, lion-taming-"

"Ohhh," a monster known as Frank exclaimed loudly, "So that explains the freak show!" The range of expressions that had been flowing across Randall's face as he said his part were wiped away like raindrops on a car, leaving a very blank, and bare, face.

"What – is – your – order?" he said slowly, as though talking to a child that had just peed on the neighbour's cat. No-one replied. Randall tried not to shout, although this same group of people that he was currently having a conversation with (if you could call treating the opposing side like children that had all peed on the neighbour's cat having a conversation) had visited the shop every day since its opening for a spot of lunch, and every time they came, they brought one or two new people that had never been to _Storm In A Teacup_ before just to ogle at Randall.

Needless to say, he didn't enjoy this very much, but what he hated more was the fact that after all of this time, no-one had had the common sense to ask what exactly had happened to him after all of these years. Well, actually, it had only been three years, but Randall had been a very well-known figure at Monsters, Inc. (though not always for the best of reasons) and his 'sudden disappearance' should've created a few more queries than it had done...

But unbeknownst to Randall, questions HAD been asked, and not in their minority. Then the Company Play was produced and developed, and once this had been shown to this questioning audience, the enquiriessuddenly stopped and everyone decided that it wasn't worth asking any more questions about Randall. Not because they had become uninterested- on the contrary, the whole shenanigan was _incredibly_ good gossip- but because, to them, _Randall_ wasn't worth it. After all, he was the evil villain of the whole operation, the bad guy, Mr Mean.

To them, Waternoose didn't exist and had had nothing to do with the machine; to them, he was a villain through and through, and Mike and Sulley had the goodness to be the heroes.

Anyway, any questions they ever would've wanted to ask were answered in the Company Play, weren't they?

Maybe they were just afraid to ask Randall why he had returned to Monstropolis from wherever he had come from, maybe they didn't want his opinion on everything that had happened because, subconsciously, they all knew that they had been fed a pack of lies. Maybe, maybe, _maybe_. But at the end of the day, 'maybe' wasn't enough for a certain monster, and because Randall was in the exact mood he wanted him to be- not jumping around with happiness, yet not moping about in depression- today was the perfect day to start getting rid of all of those 'maybes' and get a few straight, and hopefully honest, answers.

"Okay, let's make it...two Eyeball Surprises, erm, Ranft, you like that, don't you? Oh, three Eyeball Surprises, two Finger Sandwiches, and...what do you usually have? Oh, right, a Twisted Tongue. Drinks, people?" There was a bit of subdued conferring. "Okay, six Wheelers, but with mine, double it, make it swim and add a few sprinkles of Happiness, once rolled over." Randall's eye ridges rose.

"Alright. I got that up until the Wheelers...did you say you wanted to _swim_?" Andy turned to Ranft before answering.

"_That's_ the problem with having worked in the catering business, though it DOES give me an advantage of being able to tell between the pros and the amateurs." He said this as though Randall had stopped existing for a few moments, then turned back, staring evenly at the lizard-monster. "I'll repeat the order for your benefit, if I must."

"No, no, just repeat the part about you swimming." Andy coughed.

"I want a double Wheeler, swimmed, with a few sprinkles of Happiness, once rolled over." Randall, in turn, blinked a confused blink.

"I'm sorry sir, but we sell food here, not Happiness. And it's _swam_, not 'swimmed'."

"Are you telling me that you refuse to process my order?"

"Nope, I'm telling you that I refuse to process _part_ of your order, Andy. It _is_ Andy, right?" Randall added, just to be sure.

"Yes. It is. I was waiting for you to notice."

"Yeah, I could tell..."

"If you have to, just make it an original Wheeler, and get the rest of our order before Smitty eats his braces." Randall nodded the once, turning around, but froze as he felt a cold, clawed hand grasp his tail roughly. Andy smiled. "And then you can tell us all the details of your little adventure."

"Adventure?" Randall wasn't going to stand for this. "Excuse me, but since when was my life your business?"

"Since the little rumours I heard about you dealing in illegal affairs became MUCH too..._succulent_ to ignore. Much too succulent."

"Okay..." Randall coughed, snatching his tail out of Andy's stiff hands, and stepped back in horrible realisation. "How the hell do you know about that?!" Now it was everyone else's turn to blink.

"Oooh, I thought I'd enjoy this conversation," Andy said, "but I didn't realise that you knew so little of what's happened around here."

"What are you talking about?!" Randall said, exasperated.

Ranft piped up. "You haven't heard about the Company Play?" Randall's heart stopped.

"...What...?"

"Just get us our order," Andy started, leaning back in his chair leisurely, "and we'll tell you all about it..."

-----------------------

The order was, needless to say, a very rushed order, and as Randall hurried about in the kitchen, getting everything he needed to make the Twisted Tongue, Zephyr watched, bewildered. A pan crashed to the floor.

"Randall, what's-"

"Can't talk, no time." Zephyr was getting in the way, so Randall decided to lift her small structure up and pop her to one side. This gave Zephyr the opportunity to grab onto Randall's torso (she couldn't reach his shoulders) and refuse to let go.

"What's the rush?"

"Get off me!"

"Not until you tell me what all the panic's for. Have we got some important customers or something?"

"No, it's just...Look, they know everything about the machine." Zephyr let go in surprise.

"How?"

"I don't know, Andy said he'd tell me once I'd gotten their order ready." Zephyr now understanding the situation, Randall continued preparing the food, his business partner helping out where she could. "Don't bother, Zeph- you should be out front."

"I hate to say this, but you're right. I should go..."

"Then go. I can handle this myself."

"You sure?"

"Very."

--------------------

Randall eventually came through the swinging double doors that led into the kitchen, all four of his arms occupied with carrying the food and beverages on four different trays. Each one was laid carefully onto the sunlit table, every detail perfect, the plates steaming and the smells wafting. Randall eyed Andy because Andy was eyeing him, (though this was probably because he was eyeing Andy...) but the lizard-monster thought to grab his own beverage before being engulfed in confusing conversation.

"Hope you don't mind me dragging up a chair..."

"Please do- this is going to take a while to explain, and once we're done, you can do your part." Randall sat down, choking on his coffee.

"_MY_ part?" he hacked.

"Yes," Andy replied, tucking into his Finger Sandwich. "YOUR part."

"And that consists of...?"

"You telling us what _really_ happened." Randall took another gulp of coffee. This seemed a trifle unfair, but he was the type of person who refused to worry about things like negotiation- he had some very useful skills concerning persuasion, and some very useful skills in understanding what useful skills he had concerning persuasion at his disposal.

"Okay, whatever. You do your part, I do mine, everyone's happy and we all find the gold at the end of the rainbow."

"Sure." Andy swallowed. "Well, where should I begin?"

"Hold on a second..." Randall was already suspicious. "No-one else here seems as eager as you to tell me whatever you're about to tell me. And because you seem to be enjoying it so much," (Randall had noted the smile on Andy's face- one that he had never seen in all the years they had spent eating, working and generally being together at the orphanage) "it doesn't make sense for them _not _to be enjoying it..."

Craigan put his fork down, looking up at Randall. "Who says we're not enjoying it? It's just...well...we agreed that it would be best for Andy to tell you, rather than everyone trying to talk at once." Everyone seemed to agree to this, except for Andy who gave Craigan a dark, demeaning look.

_Cowards_, he thought. _At least I get the chance to relish Randall's reaction, and prize it as my own doings._

"So, shall I begin?" Randall finished his coffee, a sensational tingle travelling down his spine as his tongue tasted the strongest gulp of the drink.

"Please." A little fountain of excitement, joy, and all of those other good feeling accompanied by, admittedly, a little taster of looking forward to seeing Randall in pain erupted in the pit of Andy's stomach. He picked a piece of fingernail out of a tooth before beginning.

"As per usual, three years ago there was the infamous Company Play. What it was about was a secret to all those except the monsters actually involved in the production, but when the opening night came...oh, my." He pushed an empty plate aside. "Of course, everyone knew of Waternoose's arrest-"

"Arrest?"

"That must've been a dark rock, Randall, the one you have been hiding under for all of these years." Andy grinned at his own joke, then continued. "Mr Sullivan, our current CEO- you know about that, right?"

"How could I not?" Randall muttered sourly.

"Anyway, Mr Sullivan had devised a clever plan, and had managed to catch the former CEO out, ending in prison. He had managed to make Mr Waternoose admit to everything, and on camera, no less. Then, soon after Laugh Power was discovered- you know-"

"Yeah, yeah, Laugh Power's ten times more powerful than Scream, blah blah."

"Soon after that, Mr Sullivan and Mike Wazowski arranged the Company Play. Now, getting back to opening night...Everyone was excited, etcetera, but when the actual play started, we were all shocked. It was about everything that had happened with the Human Child, some kind of machine that you, supposedly, had built, and how it was all YOUR fault."

"You're kidding..."

"And then, at the end, right at the big climax when you had finally lost, you somehow managed to get out of Sullivan's grip and ran away, never to be seen again. Or so we thought."

"Andy," started Craigan, concerned. "You keep saying words like 'supposedly' and 'somehow'."

"And?" said Andy irritably.

"But isn't all of this pure, hard facts?"

"That's what we're about to find out, aren't we, Randall?"

Randall's breathing had stopped, and his hands shook. He had imagined this moment; everyone finding out, knowing the truth...And he had imagined what his feelings might be. Sadness, resentment, even a bit of anger was what he thought it would be like. But it wasn't. Not one bit.

All there was inside Randall's big, beautiful heart, was fury.

They'd lied. _They'd lied_.

And not just about any old little details, no. No, they'd lied about who had STARTED the whole thing, as though Randall had suggested his idea TO Waternoose!

This wouldn't do.

This just...wouldn't...do.

The part of his brain that Randall had closed off in his time in the Human World just to remain at least relatively sane started up again, like an old piece of machine with cobwebs hanging over it whirring into life. This part of his brain, though quite small, had the power to change his life, and it had taken a lot of effort to shut it down. But now it was all geared up and ready to go..._eager_ to go...it would be near impossible to stop it...

This part of his brain was dedicated to something that, in the form of a dish, is best served cold, though Randall always liked to serve it as hot as possible so as to burn the mouth of whoever happened to be eating it.

This part of his brain was called revenge.

"You all believe the play, don't you?" Randall said this quietly, not looking at anything in particular, but rather aiming his question at the entire universe.

"Well, _I _thought it was stupidly-"Andy began, though he was destined to be interrupted.

"I don't give a stuff about you, Andy. You think I've forgotten about what it was like when we were kids, you think I've been ignoring the memories that came back to me the second I saw you? Well, think again." He turned back to the rest of the group. "You...you do believe it though, don't you?" No one moved or made it sound, but this was enough of an answer for Randall. "Well," he sighed, "I guess I'd better change that."

Randall's way of thinking was exceptionally clear compared to other cases of this sort of happening- usually, he would panic and his brain would writhe and squirm trying to think of a suitable way to handle the situation, (and, if he was with Zephyr, his brain would stop its exercise quite quickly, as she would make the decision for him, even if he didn't want her to) and though he was more than capable of making the most affective choice, sometimes his emotions would get the better of him.

But in this case, his emotions were what he was thinking about in making the decisions, which therefore made his overall decision considerably more reliable.

He wanted revenge against James Sullivan and Mike Wazowski.

James Sullivan and Mike Wazowski had done some very bad things, comparable against the bad things he had done himself.

Everyone hated him because of the bad things that he had done, because everyone knew that he had done them, even when he hadn't.

No one hated the other two for the bad things _they _had done purely because no one knew they had done them, except for him.

So, the question was, was it really his responsibility, his business, to tell everyone about the other two's bad things?

The revenge part of his brain could answer that question _really _well.


	5. The Land Far, Far Away

So, finally Randall will begin to explain exactly what happened in his abscence. And before you say anything...well, once you've read the chapter, I know that a lot of the stuff I have written Randall couldn't have possibly included because he wasn't actually there, but let's just call it artistic licence.

Chapter 5- The Land Far, Far Away

"How?"

"How what?"

"How do you plan on changing our opinions of you and them?" There was a strained pause as Randall made a final decision.

"…By telling you what _really _happened..." Everyone's attention was focused on him, and though he could feel their eyes boring into his face, Randall maintained his cool. "And you can decide whether to believe me or not. I'm not doing this for your benefit, am I?" Andy sniffed.

"So whose benefit are you doing it for, then?" he said snootily.

"Sullivan and Wazowski's, of course; who else?" Randall smiled. "So, if there aren't any more enquiries…I'll begin." He gritted his teeth for a second, then relaxed. "Waternoose had told me to build the machine, right? And so I had. And when I tried to get the Human child, she escaped, Sullivan and Wazowski got involved, yadda yadda yadda…Look, you know all of this, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And, by the sounds of it, it's was all more or less accurate in the play, except for a few…um…modifications from Wazowski…So. I guess I should start at the part where I just run off to a land far, far away, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Randall swallowed. "Okay…I thought…I had beaten them both."

-----------------

A door swung perilously as Sullivan held on with only a few claws preventing him from falling to his death. Above him, Randall's outline came into view.

"Look at everybody's favourite Scarer now, you stupid, pathetic WASTE!" He leaned forwards, leering at his enemy. "You've been number one for too long, Sullivan, and now your time is UP! But don't worry…" Finally, his tone became softer, but more menacing than ever before. "I'll take good care of the kid…"

A strained "no!" was the only protest Sullivan could manage, but he was not to know that in a second, everything would change.

One moment, Randall's mouth was curled in an ecstatic grin. The next, after a yell of pain, he was nowhere to be seen.

Sullivan concentrated on getting up through the door, but Randall's indignant cries were too piercing to be ignored. Something quite exciting was obviously happening, though- there was a lot of commotion and thumps and bangs from within. Eventually, the large monster managed to get onto his knees and waited for a second to recover before looking up. What he saw made him smile, almost chuckle.

Boo, the human child who had once been so afraid of the scary, scaly lizard-monster that had come into her room to collect her screams on a daily basis seemed to have overcome her fear and was now whacking said monster on the head with a baseball bat. She had grabbed his fronds like reigns and held on tightly, and though Randall had lashed about wildly at the grip, she had coped with staying on. It was inevitable, though, that Sullivan would intervene, and after one last bash with the baseball bat, causing Randall to shift to yet another bright pattern of colours, he grabbed Randall's long neck with one swipe, and held him firmly round the torso with the other hand.

Randall thrashed about more wildly than ever for a few seconds, but it became obvious that this was all too much for him. Every part of his body ached with fatigue and lack of rest, and the sudden cut of oxygen was the last straw. He fell still.

Boo danced a happy little dance as Sulley turned towards Randall's face and grinned a sickening sort of grin- sweet, but sickening.

"She's not scared of you any more, Randall," he began as Boo roared, trying to look tough. "Looks like you're out of a job." He said this final sentence in a manner that made Randall think of how much Sullivan must've been enjoying that moment, but the threatening edge of the statement was not to be ignored. The captive gulped, and fear showed in his glory green eyes. But glory was not the emotion he was experiencing. Regret, on the other hand…

------------------

There was a door, a closed door. It kept coming close, and then backing away like a gerbil testing out a looming hand. Words were spilling out of his mouth; words that existed purely to try and salvage his own life.

He was begging.

And, what's more, he was begging the two people in the world that he would least want to beg. This shouldn't be happening, but it was, and he would have to face it.

One of them was saying something in a jokey, light sort of tone…How was this in any way appropriate? He knew that someone was going to be hurt, to say the least, by his friend's actions, yet he was having a laugh, relaxing, and doing all the things he just shouldn't have been doing. This was a serious situation. Very serious.

Not to mention scary.

The door came close again, having been opened, but it didn't back away. Randall felt the floating sensation of flying for a few seconds before something solid rose beneath him. He was screaming and wailing, but it didn't seem to help. He got up.

"And he's _outta there!"_ someone said, somewhere. A door slammed behind him. There were more voices.

"Mama, 'nother 'gator got in the house!" someone else said, somewhere. Everything was unreal, untrue, like he'd just been thrown into a TV show or a film where everyone has to say certain lines in certain ways, and everything's planned.

Randall had always wondered what it must be like to be a character in a TV show. Not the actor or actress-the _character_. He always wondered if they'd ever found out that they were actually just characters in some TV show, not real people making real choices. But what he always wondered more than anything else was how it FELT finding out that destiny really _does _exist, if it does.

That's what it felt like then. It was a very thick, bulky sort of feeling; hard to accept, like swallowing a chip sideways and feeling its sharp, burnt end cut into your throat. It still took him a few bewildering seconds to understand that he'd been thrown through the door, though.

They'd done it.

They'd gotten rid of him, once and for all.

"'Nother 'gator? Gimme that shovel!"

Something very hard and metallic crashed into Randall's skull. He flopped onto the ground, crying out in pain, wishing that time would pause for a few minutes to give him a chance to recover.

No such luck. The shovel came down again, and hard. And although it only took a good five or six hits for the human to knock Randall out, she persisted, making sure that he wouldn't wake for a while yet.

--------------

"Wan' a drink?" Chris nodded in reply. "Beer or summut…stronger?"

"Wha'ever." Joanna tripped over a stray t-shirt, stumbling, and threw a few random items about trying to find the beer. One of the items was her pet dog, Flipp. It yelped at the sudden movement, (it had previously been asleep in a pair of Chris's jeans) and landed in the plastic bucket that was positioned to catch the steady dripping of water that was let in by the leaking roof.

"Hey, move it." Joanna tried to shove her friend off the only chair they had- a tattered old sofa with numerous rips, courtesy of Flipp, and which was decorated with repeated patterns of blue frogs and flies- but he refused to budge. As a last resort, she lifted up his feet and legs like one would do whilst hoovering (though if you mentioned the word 'Hoover' to this couple, they would probably stick their fingers up their noses and ask why what they find is green.) "Ah, got 'em," she said, peering under the sofa and rolling a few cans of beer out from underneath. They were covered in dust and something yellow and gooey, but Chris didn't exactly mind.

He pinched one from Jo's hands hastily, then, after a harrowing sort of look, pushed it back. She sighed and opened it, shaking her other hand off as she passed it over. With another sigh, Joanna took her place on the other end of the sofa and sipped her beer somewhat thoughtfully, smiling only when Chris's burp reverberated against the plastic windows. Flipp howled in despair, then fell back to sleep.

Chris chucked his empty beer can across the room, and then slowly crawled the length of the sofa till his face was worryingly close to Jo's.

"I'm bored. I don't wanna be bored."

"Ya kiddin'?" she said nervously. Chris leaned forwards and took one of Joanna's cheeks in a grimy hand. "Chris, leave off, CHRI-" Her sentence was cut off by a mouth covering her own. The stench was overwhelming, and Chris had been wrong- the smell emitting from his throat _was_ noticeable whether he held his breath or not. Then, as if by instinct, Jo's leg swung up and hit Chris squarely in the stomach, winding him. He rolled off the sofa, clutching his intestines.

Jo got up quickly. "Oh, godDAMMIT! I don't believe I for'ot…Chris," she began, peering over at him, "don't forget that li'l talk we had at feastin' time, now, will ya? Ya keep ya hands _off_. Now, I gotta go- Aunt Susannah's a waitin'!" She ran about, trying to get herself ready. How could she have been so silly, forgetting that today was a Friday? "See ya, and while I'm out, could ya feed Flipp? He's already done with me slippers."

"But what-"

"Oh, just summut chewable. Gotta go!" Jo ran out the house- a portable trailer home that should've been crushed a long time ago- and hopped into the old banger parked in front of the abode she was so proud of. With a few splutters and a lot of smoke, the car woke up drearily and began to make its way to Aunt Susannah's.

"Darned radio…" Jo mumbled, wiping some sweat off her face with an arm and pushing a few buttons, causing something to snap. She paused to sniff her armpit. "It'll do." The ride was bumpy, and was worsened by the numerous objects stuck in Jo's tyres. She had some common sense in one way- she understood that if she took these objects out, the air in the tyre's would leak out- but didn't in another way; though she would leave next door's mailbox lodged in the rubber to keep the air in, she didn't seem to understand that it would seep out nevertheless, just a lot more slowly.

The dirt road got dirtier and more rugged, and eventually Jo had to abandon her car. As she clambered out, she made sure to kick next door's mailbox back in place; it had gradually been coming looser. "That should do it! Now…which way to go…" She looked about herself, spinning around for a few times and then giggling at the dizziness she would experience. "Errr…THAT way!" Bouncing off the trees, her voice carried and scared a few squirrels, and not too far in the distance, Aunt Susannah, who was stepping out of her home, caught the tones.

The trees thinned as Jo walked the distance to the trailer, and she smiled reaching the summit of a particularly steep hill. Aunt Susannah had come into view.

"Hey, Joanna, ma dear!"

"Aunt!" Bursting through the trees, the light of the white moon illuminated the scene like a high-tech digital watch. "How are ya?"

"We got a _gator!_"

"A gator? Lemme take a look!"

"Come on in!"

"Ya tellin' me that the gator was INSIDE the house?"

"Ya, like the other one a few weeks ago. Get in, scoot! Don' wan' 'nother gator to come after us now, do ya?" They walked back up the steps that led to the trailer's front door and opened it with an ominous creak. Jo smiled at the smell that greeted her.

"Ya got jambalaya on the stove?"

"We sure do!" Aunt Susannah shoved her youngest son, Billy, to the side so as to let the pathetic light from the closest lamp stood on a box get to the alligator that Jo was so eager to lay her eyes on. "Ain't it a beauty?" Joanna smiled quickly at Billy, who was pouting in the corner, and turned to look at it. Aunt Susannah waited for the reaction.

"That…ain't a gator."

"What d'ya mean? COURSE it's a gator!" This wasn't what she expected. There should've been joy, surprise, maybe even relief, but doubt?

"Aunt, it's…it's purple!"

"It's got scales, ain't it?" Jo nodded, mouth wide open. A fly dropped down suddenly in mid-air. "It's got big teeth, ain't it?" Another nod. Billy took his cap off and sat down on a deck chair with three legs. "And 's long, ain't it?"

"Y-yeah, but-"

"Well, if 's got scales, big teeth and 's long, then 's a gator, right?"

"It's got eight legs an' arms an' all," was the flat reply. "Gators don't have eight o' those." Things began to get serious, and Aunt Susannah was known for her temper.

"I don' care. We're havin' jambalaya tonigh', and that's…wha' ya doin'?" Joanna had kneeled down next to the mystery creature and touched its scales hesitantly. It didn't move.

"You can' eat this…ya can't…" She grabbed its torso gently, hefting it up, but soon laid it back on the ground- she was still incredibly apprehensive of this creature. "Ya got a wheelbarrow?" She stood up. "I'm gettin'…whatever this is, outta here." Aunt Susannah glared and held out a hand to the side, motioning to her son who was watching, intrigued.

"You ain' goin' nowhere, missy. Billy-Bob?" Her son stood to attention. "Gimme that shovel."

-------------

The sun was beginning to rise, and as the car, next door's mailbox and all, was parked up outside Jo's house, the faint cackle of radio feedback was to be heard. "Why won' this thing _work_?!" This was followed by a sharp bang. The feedback stopped. A door was swung open with more effort than necessary, causing it to practically fall off, and Jo stepped out, scratching her head. She'd left the wheelbarrow at her Aunt's, so moving the creature was going to be a lot more hard work. She didn't like hard work, and neither did Chris, but that didn't stop her from attempting to move his behind off the sofa.

"Chris!" Silence. "CHRIS! GET OUT HERE!" The front door opened, sending the blind swinging.

"Wha' took ya so long, Joanna? I was waitin' for ya all night!"

"Never mind tha', just help me!" Chris hobbled down the flattened piece of earth that he would call the driveway in his underwear and stood by Jo, stepping from one foot to the other constantly- the ground was cold.

"Wha' is it?"

"Just carry this to the house," Jo said, motioning to the back seats of the car and opening the door. Chris picked his nose absentmindedly- Joanna was, in his opinion, inone of those 'moods' again. "And don' bother askin' any questions or wha'ever, I don' have time." His eyebrows rose slightly as the creature was revealed, but the shock of seeing such a being didn't seem to have much effect on his brain. He wiped his finger on the back of his underwear and reached forwards to lift the scaly thing out of the car.

It took them both a while, but eventually they managed to get it positioned quite comfortably on the floor. (They had had to clear out a space in the corner of the room as the rest of the mouldy carpet was covered in clothes, food, and a whole assortment of other not-so-nice things.)

"So…wha' is it?" Chris sat down on the sofa with a beer.

"I dunno."

"Oh." There was a moment of quietness except for Flipp scrabbling at the door- the new visitor seemed to worry him.

"So…Wha' happened at Aunt Susannah's?" Jo smiled proudly and sat down next to Chris. She forgot to move the plate of baked beans from her side of the sofa before sitting down, but the warmth was quite comforting.

"Nothin' much. Aunt had found this…thing…an' wan'ed to ea' it, but I changed her mind." Chris grunted and scratched his chest pleasurably. "Oh, for Flipp's sake…" (This explains the unusual name.) The dog had begun to bark loudly and was getting more desperate by the second. Jo slowly got to her feet and opened the front door, through which Flipp ran out like a shot. "Dunno wha's wrong wi' him…"

"Think I know…" Chris said, staring fixatedly at the creature. It was moving.

"Whoa…" Crawling onto the floor, Jo crept closer to the creature, and then touched it. It made a noise that sounded uncannily like a groan, and, bit by bit, turned its head to the other side. Large cuts were bleeding all over its body- something that Jo hadn't considered whilst laying it onto the floor- and most were centred on its head. "Wha'ever this thing is…it sure is weird…" The blood, rather than being a deep red, was a strange mix of blue and green, and the colours mixed like different shades of paint when they're not stirred properly.

Jo bit her bottom lip- she had only just realised what a commitment looking after this creature would be.

-----------------

"Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah…"

Meat?

"Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah…"

Yes, definitely meat. But not one that he had smelt before…

"Hah hah hah hah hah hah hah hah…"

What _was_ that bloody noise?

"Hah hah hah hah hah…Arf! AAARF!"

He curled his hand. The pain was too much.

"ARF! ARF!"

"Grr…"

"ARF! Arf! Arf…"

The noise stopped. Another noise started.

"CHRIS! Christ, where's 'at idiot when ya need 'im? CHRIIIS!"

Cracking an eye open, Randall winced. Everything was spinning erratically and the sounds that were currently flowing through his mind weren't exactly helpful to someone whose head's thumping like a nightclub. One by one, he moved his limbs, partly to check that he wasn't paralysed or anything of the sort, and partly to confirm that they were actually there. He came into problems with the third arm.

Jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut, Randall tried to move the arm in question. It moved- he could tell as his bloody hand brushed against the scales on his side. But what he couldn't work out is why he couldn't _feel _his hand brush against his scales. Was there something wrong with his side? Or maybe it was his arm? And what _was _that incessant noise? What was it saying, what did it mean?

This was all too much for Randall's already pulsating brain to take. He swallowed, and took a deep breath. Or, at least, he tried to take a deep breath. But, once again, nothing seemed to happen. He tried again.

Nothing.

His brain ached enough, but the sudden cut of oxygen was another shock. Randall began to panic.

He struggled, trying to turn over, but something was holding him in place, and whatever this something was, it was holding him around the neck. Like a jigsaw puzzle, all the individual little pieces of information that Randall had managed to gather locked into place.

Someone was strangling him.

His eyes snapped open. This didn't exactly help- he couldn't see much- but what he _did_ manage to pick out among the blurred shapes was the largest shape, and also was the one taking up most of his view. It had a face- two eyes, a nose and a mouth. It also, Randall presumed, had two arms and, by the way it was leaning over him, it stood upright.

Now, what sort of animal has all of these characteristics?

"Chris? I've been searching all over for…WHAT THE HELL ARE YA DOIN'?! GET OFF HIM!" There was a sudden thump, and the human was knocked off him. Air rushed down his windpipe, and he kept his eyes firmly shut, thankful to still be alive.

"It's dangerous, Jo, I'm tellin' ya!"

"How do YOU know?! You ain't got half a brain!"

"Well, if we wake up 'morrow mornin' and find Flipp's been eat'n, I'll blame it on you. That thing's YOUR probl'm."

"No it ain't!"

"You brough' it home. So it's YOUR probl'm." Chris pulled on a smelly T-shirt and hobbled outside, the sun's early morning light causing him to squint in annoyance. He didn't say goodbye.

"Argh…" Randall moaned, struggling to keep a hold of his consciousness. Turning around at the sound, Jo frowned.

"Never heard of a 'gator that could make noises…" She sighed, and, once fairly sure that the creature wasn't going to be moving again, took hold of his arm.

"OH, God…" she gasped. She'd been wrong- the creature was, as a matter of fact, still awake.

"What the…? Oh…" Randall whispered, the pain in his voice surfacing like oil pouring onto the surface of a liquid; always evident, but never noticed.

The words had been a clear mistake, though Randall hadn't had a chance to realise this- he was currently concentrating on making the pain go away, not by choice, but by instinct. Joanna's eyelids widened and her eyeballs reached out of their sockets in disbelief.

The creature had said something.

There was a small slice of Joanna's heart that was pitiful, even merciful, of people worse off than herself, but because she hadn't come across many of these people in her time, this slice of her heart had never had the opportunity to shine. But for the first time since Joanna had been acquainted to Chris, this little, forgotten section had a job to do.

Joanna was also gifted with a very basic sense of common sense, and this also came unto its own at this point. The girl had understood that if the creature was able to speak in the same language as herself, or in any language at all for that matter, it must be of some reasonable intelligence, and she also realised that the only explanation of the creature not being able to show this intellect was that he had been beaten about the head a few nights previous, at Joanna's Aunt's delightful abode.

Therefore, this creature was practically _human_.

And if it was human, surely it deserved at least a sub-human treatment during the length ofits stay?

Of course, Joanna wasn't sure about any of this, (and she happened to be rather pleased with herself for managing to think all of this through) but it was worth a try, wasn't it? Maybe this creature could even turn out to be good company, an interesting associate to have made contact with. Sure, he had a few too many arms and legs than one would normally have and manage to deal with, but that paled into significance once compared to having a new friend…

Jo gritted her teeth as she hefted Randall's now limp body into her arms. He twitched a little as another wave of pain was laid about his body, but soon learned that in the condition he was presently in, pain was to become like a comrade- always there, by his side, but ready to betray him once his back was turned.

The sofa wasn't much, but it was the best she could do- she and Chris had to sleep on the bed, uncomfortable though it may have been, and the sofa was the only relatively soft surface they had left.

Luckily, this time, she remembered to move the baked beans out of the way before laying the creature's body upon the settee. Jo positioned one of her few pillows behind his seeping head, suddenly realising just how light his body had been for a being of over twelve feet, and stepped back, biting her lower lip.

Randall's eyes were now open, and his deep pupils were trying to focus on Jo. Neither of them said a word.

That silent moment was when Jo really came to terms with what, or rather, _who_ Randall was. She might not have known his name, but somehow, she knew that he had a name, a personality, a _life_.

There was something in his eyes that told her all of this. Something profound, unfathomable, something hurt, ashamed, powerless yet so controlling…

Something real.

Randall's eyes rolled back into his head, and though he soon forgot the astonished look that had been placed upon him by Jo moments before, Joanna knew she would never be able to forget the look that he had placed her, nor the feelings she had experienced in that moment.

And, not surprisingly, she wasn't the first to be entranced by Randall's meaningful eyes, his actions, his very soul.

Certainly not the first.


	6. Escape To The Wilderness

Christmas is in one week! WHOO! Anyway, about the accents of Joanna and Chris; I have decided that they're now going to be just generally Southern, but because their part ends in this chapter, it would just be too much effort to make them sound really authentic. I've tried my best, but the accents certianly won't be perfect. I want to thank Pitbulllady, though, for giving me and others all the information we need about Southern and Cajun accents.

And, since this is the last chapter to be posted before Christmas,I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!!!

Chapter 6- Escape To The Wilderness

Randall sat up.

It was dark, shadowy, but a strip of light still managed to leak through the gap in the make-shift curtains created out of plastic shopping bags covering the window opposite him. The light was orange and warm, the colour of a nectarine, and sliced through one of Randall's eyes. He didn't mind, though- it gave him the chance to have a look around without having to disturb anything unnecessarily.

Everything was in a terrible state. Broken plates and crushed beer cans littered the floor, as did clothes and an assortment of pure junk, and a sour smell drifted about the air. Randall tried hard not to breathe in. A dog was snoring soundly in a corner of the room, and in the other corner…

A bed. And, what was more, this bed was occupied.

Randall bit his bottom lip. He was in the same room as a pair of humans. A pair of _adult_ humans.

Acting as a child would in absolute wonder, Randall continued to look about himself; there wasn't much else he could do. There were only two rooms leading off of this one, one being an open-plan kitchen of sorts, though basically equipped and gloomy, and the other being a bathroom. The door to the bathroom was closed, but if it had been open, Randall would have been able to see the space in which a toilet had once lived. Luckily, it wasn't, as the stench might've been a bit too much for Randall's already turning stomach.

He leant forward even more, so as not to be resting on his hands. Pain swept through his body in shuddering bouts, but, in some ways, it wasn't as bad as he first expected. The movement made his arm hurt horribly, and so he clutched it suddenly with another hand, clenching his teeth.

This was when he first realised that, rather than lying on the floor, he was in fact situated on the sofa. It wasn't a particularly comfortable sofa, but this didn't matter.

Randall then prodded the blanket that he was wrapped up in, and found that, though dirty, it was soft, with a rich texture, and was reassuringly heavy. And although it made a lot of noise and was a struggle to pull off, Randall found that he loved the way it made him feel, because it reminded him of all the things he should have experienced as a child but hadn't, one of which were the motherly hugs of a parent.

These embraces, as far as Randall knew, were also strong and reassuring, like the blanket, but the lizard-monster knew that the cloth didn't really come close. He clutched the blanket in a fiery grip, pulled it back, and rolled off the sofa. He couldn't stay long here- these humans obviously knew of his intelligence, and this was proven even more so by the extensive care that they had taken in tending to his wounds- but getting away was not to be easy.

The second he had fallen to his feet, Randall winced, placed a hand around his mouth to muffle a groan, and threw up. He retched disgustingly and held his stomach, trying to stop this reaction, but nothing he could do managed to control it. Before he knew what was happening, a white light had been flicked on and the humans had clambered out of bed.

Well, one human had. The other turned over and put his pillow over his head in annoyance.

"Jo, turn that bloody light off!"

"No! The…thing's poorly!"

"Oh, get RID OF IT!"

"NO!" Chris rose out of bed like a zombie, his eyes flashing, and pulled a coat on over his underwear. Jo's brow furrowed. "Where ya goin'?"

"Ma," he mumbled in reply, before striding out and slamming the door. It bounced back open.

"Spawn o'…" Jo muttered, staring at where her boyfriend had been moments before. A violent retching noise behind her made her snap back to reality. "Oh…heaven upon the earth…"

Randall had collapsed and had curled up, but his chest was heaving and his eyes were squeezed shut. Panicking slightly, Jo got down on one knee, cleared a bit of space on the floor, and pulled down a pillow that she had put on the sofa earlier on. It was half empty because of a reasonable-sized hole on one side of it, and it had the vilest pattern on its cover to match the sofa's colours, but Jo figured that it was the thought that counted.

Randall was now lying still but breathing heavily, and his body shuddered now and then as though an electric current was passing through it. Jo leaned down closer, lifted his head up and slid the pillow under it as quickly as she could, licking her lips as she aided the monster. She eyed the vomit centimetres away from where she was kneeling, slid a cloth off the table to her left, and laid it on top of what Randall had thrown up. Then, she waited, hoping that everything would be alright…

"How…y'all doin'?" It sounded stupid, sure, and even more so to the thing…_person_, she was saying it to, but Jo was still worryingly unsure about whether or not this creature actually had a human intelligence. But she was sure of one thing- now was the time for her to find out. "Hello…?"

Panting, Randall curled up into an even tighter swirl, and then finally relaxed. The nausea had ceased, and though he still felt terrible, he was now trying to focus on the voice that he could hear in front of him, and behind him, and everywhere around him, it seemed.

"Hello? You hear me?" It made sense for Randall to answer this question, but his body was screaming in protest. On the other hand, his brain was telling him that this was a ripe opportunity not to be missed. Balling his fists, Randall decided to give it a try- what did he have to lose, other than his life, which he didn't value as highly as one should anyway?

"…H…h…help…" Jo's eyes widened and her face soon broke out into a manic grin.

"You talk! You really talk! Say somethin' else!"

"…Oh…" Jo blinked.

"You need help, don't you...?" she said in a tender, caring tone of voice. She grabbed the blanket that Randall had savoured so much when he had first woken up, and laid it over him gently. "There ya go. Get a bit o' shut eye- ya need it." Randall nodded slowly, but then shook his head. The blanket was so comforting though…it was inviting him to the Land of Nod…But he was to resist.

Trying with all his might to sit up and ignore the spinning room before him, Randall rested against the side of the sofa, pulling the blanket up with his lower set of hands and shakily smoothing back his fronds with an upper hand.

"Jeez…" he whispered under his breath, reeling at his headache. As his hand felt his face to smooth back his fronds, he touched something. It was like a groove in his head, his skull, and he gagged as he looked at his hand upon feeling something wet, watery, but thicker than water. It was blood.

"Sorry 'bout not bandaging ya head there- my ma always taught me to leave cuts like that wide open. I had to mop it up at first- there was that sticky stuff all over the place! And Chris was complaining like Flipp with a belly ache…" She drifted off, but caught herself quickly. "Where ya from?" She said this quietly, as though it was a touchy subject, and although it indeed was, she couldn't possibly have known that for certain, could she?

Randall gulped for two reasons- one, because he had just opened his eyes again, and he hadn't liked what he had seen, and two, because he didn't want to answer to the inquiry.

"Do…do you have any water…?" he said, gritting his teeth. He shouldn't have been talking to the human, and he knew it, but on the first impressions that he had of her, she seemed relatively stupid.

Well, apart from the fact that she had realised that he was as intelligent as her, or maybe even more so…

But that didn't matter. She was a human, and it was common knowledge in the Monster World that all humans, whether they be young, old, or rotting in the ground, are stupid.

Jo had got up and gone outside to return five minutes later with a bucket of water. She dipped a crusty dirt-covered mug in the pail, scooping up the murky liquid, and sat back down next to Randall, offering him the cup. He didn't thank her for it, but this wasn't because of a lack of manners. Instead, the very idea of having a drink was so overwhelmingly satisfying that when he actually came to gulping it down, the relief of some fluids going down his throat, no matter what they may have been, and the possibility that they might improve his condition overrode any other thoughts or feelings he might have had at that moment.

He drank every last drop and, once finished, sighed. The hand holding the mug dropped down. Jo watched with intrigue.

Randall swallowed again, wishing that he had more water, but didn't want to ask; it seemed a better idea to build a friendly relationship with this human, because if he managed to do so, she might be of some benefit to him. Exactly what sort of benefit was beyond him at the moment though- he was still groggy.

Randall did manage to remember his manners eventually and, now feeling a bit better, he looked at the human properly for the first time.

She was quite tall, though this was only noticeable as she was kneeling by the length of her legs, and the bright orange shock atop her head that was her hair was held back scruffily by a large clasp. Her eyes were a darkish shade of green and her lips were thin and pale, as was most of her skin. Something else that Randall had noticed of this woman was that although she was showing all the usual traits of the emotion of concern, her mouth still looked as though it was smiling. It clearly wasn't, but there was this aura surrounding her person that made it _seem_ as though it was.

This semi-smile remained as Randall began to speak. His tone was soft but edged with pain, and was greeted not with shock or horror, but with a balanced amount of expectancy and acceptance.

"…Thanks…" Jo grinned outright.

"No problem, mes amis! My name's Joanna, but since you've scared Flipp so much that he's now livin' the natural way, outside with all his other lil' animal friends, you can call me Jo."

"Randall." The lizard-monster held out a hand- one that was shaking badly- but he received a pat on the shoulder instead. It was a very painful pat on the shoulder, but it proved that he was indeed making progress. "So…" he began after a long pause. He swept a hand through his fronds once more, trying not to touch the groove in front of his foremost frond, but coming across a new stream of blood beginning to rush down the side of his face. "What happened?"

Joanna was confused for a few seconds, but then understood. "Oh! Ya mean at Aunt Susannah's?" She chuckled, if not a little balefully, and stood up, talking as she walked over to another dirt-covered side-table. "Well…She didn't wanna give ya up- figured that since you were in her house, she was yours. But I knew that ya ain't as ya seem, so I showed her what's what." Having retrieved what she had been looking for, she sat down and handed over a damp, cold piece of rag to Randall, eyeing the cut on his head. He dabbed the blood away lightly and narrowed his eyes at her.

"What's…what?"

"Let's just say I changed her mind 'bout…whatever y'are being a good mix with jambalaya." Jo folded her arms. "You?"

"What about me?"

"What's _your_ story?"

"My story?" Randall shook his head, surprised by the sudden rush of emotions that surfaced along with the question that had just been asked. "You don't wanna know my story." Thinking that it was better to be straight with Jo rather than completely dismiss her queries, Randall let his answer evolve accordingly. "It's all very confusing…Sometimes even _I_ don't know what happened." He said this last remark with an added touch of resentment- something that he certainly hadn't expected.

"I guess you've got a real life and everythin', then? Before all o' this?" Randall nodded, confirming this, and added to himself, '_if you can call what I was doing before a 'life'._ "Do ya wanna go back?" Now, this was something Randall really had to consider before replying.

"I…don't know."

---------------

Three long weeks had passed.

Randall had been in a sorry state when he had arrived at Joanna and Chris's house, (or, rather, when she had taken him home) but now, after a few weeks of solid but gradual recovery, he was feeling a lot better. The food hadn't been brilliant, and the comfort factor of the place hadn't been pleasing, but Randall had been incredibly satisfied with the company- Jo had spent all of her time with him when she was not at work, and would entertain him with stories of her past and present.

In some ways, Randall felt as though he could live there forever. There had been no sign of Chris since his departure all of that time ago, and Randall had complete control of the whole place when Jo was out, so he could do as he pleased. He even ventured out once or twice, if he was feeling in the mood physically and mentally, and bumped into Flipp as he explored. These meetings were quite entertaining for the lizard-monster, although Flipp would probably say the contrary if he could talk- the second he saw the slightest sign of Randall approaching, he'd run down the road as fast as he could and disappear in a shot.

Once, though, one of these meetings didn't end very well, and basically involved Flipp gathering all of his doggy friends in the area and…well, hunting Randall down. This concluded in Randall nearly getting a hand bitten off, and several dogs gaining some broken limbs.

So, to get back to the point, Randall had had a very entertaining three weeks. Joanna never realised that Randall had been going outside until that evening when she had returned to find the monster nursing a bleeding hand. He had turned around with a bit of a jump at the sound of the front door slamming shut, and when Joanna had given him a fair equivalent of Twenty Questions about what had happened, he soon gave in to the truth.

But Joanna had reacted in a way that he had not expected- she accepted the fact that Randall was going mad with boredom having to be stuck indoors all day- and, soon enough, she was talking about what he should do next. She listed every option possible on the earth, even things utterly ridiculous, like Randall helping her out at the Gator Farm, but she steered clear of the subject of Randall actually leaving the swamp.

This worried Randall greatly; the first idea that had popped up in his mind when the question of what he was going to do next now that he was mobile was to get out of this place and find his way back into the Monster World.

Yes- he wanted to go back. He _needed_ to go back.

How else would he be able to reap his revenge over the two people that had been the cause of so much unbearable pain?

----------------

It was night time. Randall was curled up on the sofa, tucked under the heavy blanket that he had certainly become attached to over his stay, and was pretending to be asleep.

He looked up at the clock in Flipp's bed. The clock only had one hand, probably because of Flipp, and was almost inevitably wrong or broken (everything in that room seemed to be wrong or broken in some way) but Randall looked at it nevertheless. He really wanted to know what the time was, but nothing in the room helped him find this piece of information out, so he sat up on the sofa and brushed a plastic bag curtain to one side to reveal a window. Peering out, all that Randall could see was a little glint of light in the distance and, deducing that this was probably just a lone 4-wheel drive travelling through the swamps, he smiled.

It was very dark and so therefore probably very deep into the night. Randall let go of the plastic bag swiftly, which was a big mistake in itself as the rustling and movement caused someone outside to cock a gun, and crept onto the floor. Luckily, Flipp wasn't there at the moment, (unsurprisingly) and Joanna was fast asleep.

Randall, in a way, had wanted to say a proper farewell to her, but this would've meant revealing to her what he had planned for tonight- escape- and he was afraid that she would find a way to stop him. He did, on the other hand, manage to give his thanks to Joanna for her services; one evening, as she had returned from work, he had persuaded her to let him have a look at her car. He fixed any faults it might've had, including the dodgy radio, and received the highest of praise- something that had really made his heart feel alight.

This had been, of course, after the incident with the dogs, which had happened several days before.

Randall made his way across the room, positioned the little note that he had written next to Jo's head, on her pillow, and crawled towards the door. His actions were light-footed and smooth, and his purpose firmly burnt into his brain- revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.

He got up onto his four feet as he approached the door, but did so slowly, (at least, compared to his other movements)- lifting his head quickly would start yet another one of his infamous headaches up, and this would spoil the whole mission. A firm hand grasped the tightened door handle (Randall had done other odd jobs around the house) and he pulled, ready to relish freedom.

It wasn't as he expected. Definitely not as he expected.

Because, of all the things that could have happened, even being abducted by aliens was something that he expected more than having a large gun shoved in his face.

Chris didn't say a word, and Randall didn't expect him to.

One thing that he now _did_ expect was for a piece of metal to pierce his scales and make a home for itself somewhere in his heart region. He could even imagine this piece of metal waiting, preparing, in the gun, looking forward to its new life. It was like going abroad- sure, you can't talk the language, but who gives a damn about not being able to speak when you've got sun, sea and sand, or, in this case, vessels and blood?

"Hold still," Chris muttered, peering down the right end of the barrel.

_Oh, what the hey,_ was the first thing that Randall thought upon hearing these words. What kind of shooter tells his prey to 'hold still'? Did this somehow imply that Chris wasn't a good shot? So, before performing some astounding acrobatics around the room, Randall decided to test his luck. This is where the 'what the hey' comes in; just before Randall does something that anyone would HAVE to say 'what the hey' before doing, since it is, in some ways, utterly stupid.

He moved very quickly.

First, he dodged to the left as a bullet ricocheted off the sofa, missing him by more than enough. He then clambered up the wall to his left side and slithered across the ceiling, using the darkness to his advantage. It wasn't to stay dark for long though- Jo had woken up at the loud bangs and had rolled out of bed.

"CHRIS, WHAT THE F-" She was cut off by yet another gun shot.

The sudden movement was taking its toll on Randall and reminding him that though he had made such wonderful improvement, he hadn't recovered fully. His head was thumping like never before, and any logical thoughts that might've been flowing through his mind beforehand were lost. He was now running on instinct, on an autopilot of sorts.

A window suddenly came up before him, and before he knew what he was doing, he had ripped off the plastic bags taped to the wall and had thrust a fist through the glass. It shattered into hundreds of tiny little fragments, several of which embedded themselves into his hand. He didn't care, instead just carrying on to climbing through the window and falling onto the ground. He rolled, trying to soften the impact, but the pain still increased. Trying to shift colours, he knew, was a stupid idea, and he hadn't shifted in the past three weeks for two very plausible reasons- firstly, because he wanted to keep his gift a secret, and secondly, because he couldn't.

He had tried a few days before, and nothing had happened. But, instead of dwelling on the matter, he had continued, deciding that he would try later, after his escape.

Therefore, for the first time in his life, shifting wasn't the first thing he had resorted to get out of an awkward situation. Subconsciously, he was trying with all his might to turn invisible, but it was wasted energy.

He slithered away quickly into the undergrowth, hiding in the greenery, dodging between trees. Chris had stepped outside and had looked around manically, Jo clawing at his arm trying to stop him, and he eventually decided to continue the chase into the swamp. But, first, he hit Jo with the end of his gun, knocking her around the head. She fell to the ground and did not stir.

Chris's nose wrinkled as though he was hoping to follow a scent of sorts, and he started to stomp past the rough road into the bushes, going where he thought Randall had been headed.

Meanwhile, Randall was going the opposite direction of the random gunshots. He paused for a moment, as did the bangs, and thought of how stupid Chris was to continue shooting at nothing. A few birds in the tree above him squawked, leaving their branches to scatter about the sky- they were afraid of the noise.

An idea came to Randall; he could climb a tree, and there was no way that Chris would be able to find him if he went up high enough. Randall immediately put this plan into motion. There was a tree inches away from where he was lying on the ground, but it looked weak and unstable, so he began to crawl to a tree he saw several metres away.

Suddenly, an excruciating dagger of pain travelled up his arm and spread through his torso, and it took him several seconds to realise that Chris was a lot closer to him than he had previously thought.

Randall scolded himself. How could he have made such a stupid mistake, letting Chris- or rather, Chris's gun- leave the centre of his thoughts, even for a few moments? Now he had to pay the price; carrying a bullet along with the pain that it would inevitably cause.

"Got'cha," Chris muttered under his breath. His eyes were boring manically into Randall's face as he rose his gun up, preparing to fire another shot. Randall's shaking body came into focus. Chris's finger squeezed the trigger.

He was too slow- although Randall had needed a second or two to come to terms with what had just happened, his instincts came unto their own, making him move and clamber up the target tree. The pain seemed to have been numbed as Randall tried to escape a more terrible fate than just suffering, and he managed to climb a good few metres up the tree. He wasn't able to scale it- his injury prevented him from doing so- but he was at least relatively safe.

Chris's eyes darted about and he stomped forward a few steps before gritting his teeth in anger. The creature was gone. He had lost his only opportunity to get rid of the thing that had, in his opinion, destroyed any chance of a relationship between him and Jo. He felt utterly bitter, and to try and disperse his anger, he went over to a nearby tree and kicked it.

Unfortunately, this was the tree that Randall was currently perched in, and as it wobbled slightly, sending some of its leaves drifting to the ground, he hung on even tighter, shutting his eyes to block out the outside world, hoping that the thumping would end soon.

It did. Chris had left, disappointed, and had gone to visit Joanna to try and rekindle their love, which left Randall halfway up a tree.

Randall looked about himself blearily. There wasn't much to see, really; a few trees, some assorted plants, and Jo's scraggy little house in the distance. The branch he was clinging onto was quite thick- thick enough, at least, to support his whole body comfortably. Clutching his injured arm, he inched forwards, curling his tail around the branch behind him, and laid his body across the length of the wood. Randall groaned and winced in pain, but this was the best that he could do.

He shut his eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass.

---------------------

The stream bubbled pleasantly over the pebbles and rocks of the shallows, reflecting the rays of sunlight that had managed to peak through the trees.

Randall leaned over the sparkling water, allowing his tongue to lap up some gulps in relief. He lay in the mud of the bank, letting the liquid pass by the scales on his face. Slowly, his eyes began to close and fatigue overcame him…

A twig snapped several metres away. Randall suddenly jumped up as best he could, his eyes scanning the scene immediately in front of him. He couldn't see much- he was tired and hungry and wasn't feeling his best to say the least- but he figured that appearing as though he could see everything would make whatever it was that had made the noise feel no less than relatively nervous.

He stood, completely still, for a minute before relaxing. It was gone, whatever it had been, and that was all that really mattered- Randall couldn't afford to take chances, not now he had managed to live a good three years in the swamp. The first thing that he had thought of upon escape from the human's house was somehow getting back to the Monster World, back home, but, in the condition that he had been in, it had been practically impossible to just walk to the nearest town or city. And, after trying to do so, it seemed as though the closest network of civilisation was, in fact, a lot further away than Randall had first expected.

Unfortunately, his condition hadn't got any better since, and now, his main aim in life was to survive. He felt like an animal, and acted like one too, but a small part of his brain- or heart- somehow handled trying to keep him going. Sometimes, he relived a memory of his previous life, so to speak, when he had lived in Monstopolis, just to remind him that there even WAS a Monstropolis, a Monsters, Incorporated, a Fungus, a Waternoose…a Sullivan, and a Wazowski.

He didn't think of Sullivan and Wazowski much anymore- survival had become his life. But he certainly hadn't forgotten about them; he hadn't had his revenge yet, had he? And Randall knew that he wouldn't be able to live the rest of his life satisfyingly without _some_ kind of payback…

Randall sat down. He felt very ill, and didn't really want to do much other than sit down. Well, actually, sleeping was an option, but not one that he was particularly keen on- the nightmares that he would have were not exactly fun experiences. He leant against a tree by the stream, his torso sinking, squelching into the mud. His arms ached, his legs ached, his head pumped with pain, and as ants began to troop onto his body, making his scales tingle, Randall felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

_Snap_.

Another twig went.

Randall didn't react as instantaneously as he had done before, only opening his eyes at the noise at first. Soon enough, though, he lifted himself up onto all eights and crawled forwards, back to the bank, heading towards the noise. His reflection scowled at him. It was a horrible reflection- worn and weary- and was not a patch on what had been previously.

Randall stopped looking.

Three eyes peered out at him through a thinning bush. Then, the creature dived forwards, knocking Randall over. The lizard-monster didn't fight purely because he didn't have the strength to become a formidable force, but this being certainly knew what it was doing.

It grabbed Randall by his fronds firmly, making him grit his teeth in pain, and lifted him up. Movement ceased.

Randall looked about himself.

Everything was suddenly different. He was lying on the ground, and this wasn't a soft, squelchy ground. Instead, it was hard and solid and supportive. It also wasn't the ground.

High up in a large tree, someone had placed some smoothed logs across three strong branches, creating a platform of a sort, and some branches directly above had been tired together with vines, making a roof to protect anyone underneath from the rain or the sun. A fire was burning in a metal drum, cooking something that smelled absolutely delicious, and there was a monster stoking the food momentarily.

Randall sat up slowly, clutching his head as a fresh headache swelled inside his skull. With one hand, he pulled back a blanket that was covering him, and with another, he took hold of a lower arm- the one that had been hit with the bullet. Something was familiar about this situation- or rather the feel of the situation…

Of course. The blanket. The blanket that was heavy, reassuring, that reminded him of motherly hugs that he, as a child, should have had but never had.

Of course! Patterson. Patterson- the monster that he had known for two months, but that he had completely forgotten about.

Of course…His memory. The memory that once had been pretty good, but now…

"Pat, what's that you got on the drum?" Randall got up, feeling utterly embarrassed- he kept forgetting about what had happened in the past couple of months with Patterson, but the monster seemed to understand that this wasn't Randall's fault. The lizard-monster also felt distinctly guilty- Patterson had helped him so much recently, and the best Randall could do for thanks was to forget all about it.

"Rat." Randall nodded, eyeing his friend appreciatively. Patterson was large, very large- even taller than Sullivan- but, regardless to his size, he was very light; he had a hole, in a sense, in the centre of his upright body, and this kept his weight to a minimum. He looked slightly human-like, with pale pink skin, but his three eyes and single arm distinguished him from any every-day homo-sapian. And, atop his head were three horns, all twisted and curling. Randall had been, admittedly, incredibly frightened the first time he had seen Pat, but with the offer of food and safe accommodation being presented, he couldn't miss the opportunity.

Also, Pat had become a more than welcome friend. Neither of the exiled monsters talked of their past, but they had both agreed that it was far better that way, rather than have their history get in the way.

"How are you feeling?" Pat's voice was quite etched and sharp, and was very cold, no matter what he would be saying.

"You don't wanna know," Randall replied, taking a deep breath. The rat smelled nice.

"Sit down- it'll be ready in a minute." Randall did as he was told, wrapping the blanket around himself.

"I still don't believe you managed to get this thing," he said, smiling and motioning towards the cloth.

"Yes, well, those humans are more idiotic than I ever dared to believe." The rat was cut in half and served. It wasn't much of a meal, but for Randall's grumbling stomach, it was more than enough.


	7. Caviar And Chips

Okay, I know this is a ridiculously long chapter, but once I started, I couldn't stop, y'know? I hope everyone had a good Christmas and will have a Happy New year! Jo and Chris are back by popular demand, which was something that, I admit, I never expected, but I changed some things to suit...well, everything. Oh, and, sorry about the whole caviar and chips thing. Don't ask why I wrote that part...I guess I felt like being random. Hee hee...

Chapter 7- Caviar And Chips

The night-sky was beautiful. Stars shone brightly through the branches and leaves of scattered trees, and the waning moon, at its highest, acted like a mother to these burning suns. There was silence, apart from the whistling of the fresh wind and the rustling of leaves.

Patterson was fast asleep in the far corner of the platform, resting near the trunk of their tree. Randall hadn't managed to get to sleep yet. He was lying down, staring up at the sky, though not really acknowledging its presence, and thinking about a lot of things. For the first time in a long, long while, pain was completely absent from his body, leaving him able to concentrate properly. But, rather than thinking of this as a positive thing, Randall, in a way, actually _wanted_ to be hurting- it would give him something to concentrate on.

Without the pain, and with Patterson asleep, he was just left alone with his conscience and a very mixed platter of emotions. The revenge was still there, of course, but the more he thought about the child…the more he thought about each and every little detail of what had happened…the more he experienced guilt. Randall didn't like guilt at all; he just wasn't used to it. His way of thinking was that what was done was done, and that there was never any plausible reason to keep reverting back to the past.

It was really his own past that kept him thinking like this. He hadn't had the most fun-filled of childhoods, to say the least, but he couldn't change that, could he? No-one could. The best he thought he could do would be to just forget about it.

Forgetting wasn't as easy as he first thought though, and this was proved even more so by the constant train of thought running through his mind, which was now focused on what had happened with the girl. He couldn't forget what Sullivan and Wazowski had done, no, and most of the things that Randall had done, in his own opinion, he had had no choice about. And that was that.

A little 'but…' floated through his mind, and Randall knew that this 'but…' was right. The imposing question was…Sure, everything accounted for, he was innocent…

But did had he done what was proper, what was _right_?

Randall found, to his dismay, that he didn't have an answer. What had happened to him certainly wasn't fair, as life seemed to be in general, but if he was to be killed at that very moment, how likely was it that he would end up in heaven, away from the fiery gates of the other place?

Randall scoffed. He shouldn't have been thinking about this kind of thing, about dieing. Sighing a deep, deep sigh, the lizard-monster sat up and looked at the view around him. It wasn't much, really- a few trees, a stream trickling away somewhere in the distance, some nocturnal creatures coming out to play- but it was, admittedly, very calm, peaceful. He swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat and traced the scar across his head. The sudden rush of emotions that he was currently experiencing hadn't been received very well, although it had been expected.

Contrary to the beliefs of previous co-workers, Randall wasn't just some cold, detached zombie who didn't know the meaning of the word 'happy'. He was, as a matter of fact, much more emotional then one would think upon meeting him for the first time, and it was his ability to keep these feelings under the surface that hid his own true personality.

All of this thinking had become much too much, and another headache had started. Randall buried his face in his hands. Why did life have to be so…_difficult_?

There was a sudden gunshot in the distance. Randall peered up, scanning the horizon in the direction that he had heard the noise. It was just as he had expected; somewhere near Jo and Chris's place.

He shook his head. Yet another section of his life that just didn't seem complete had been pointed out without much mercy on Randall's behalf by the gunshot. The lizard-monster would sometimes find himself wondering about what had happened with Joanna, the woman that had nursed him back to health. And, of course, who could forget Chris, the man that had made sure that once Randall had gotten better, he would ruin it all by shooting him?

As far as Randall knew, they were still together, but any reasons as to _why _they were still together were completely beyond him. Did Joanna LIKE being treated like something Flipp had dragged in? Did she enjoy being ignored for the majority of the time the couple spent together, until Chris lusted something a bit physical?

Well, from what Randall could remember, she _had _been quite stupid…But THAT stupid?

There was another gunshot, and by this point, Randall had got quite worried. For the past few nights, these gunshots had been reasonably frequent, and he had thought about asking Pat whether he could aid him in trying to find out exactly what had been going on, but every time he had mentioned the subject, Pat had always seemed very eager to talk about something else, always managing to cause a distraction to take Randall's mind off it.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" The lizard-monster gasped, turning around, and finally relaxed as Patterson's silhouette came up behind him to sit down by his side. Randall was slightly wary of Pat; although he was, indeed, a very interesting monster to talk to, he found himself to be constantly questioning of how exactly he had got there, the swamp. The first time the two had properly talked to each other, once introducing themselves, it had been Pat who had thought of the idea of making a pact, agreeing that Randall wouldn't have to tell him how he got there if he didn't have to share the equivalent information with Randall.

This had worked quite well. That is, until Randall had begun to wonder how exactly Patterson had got there… "Couldn't sleep." Pat nodded.

"Understandable. The air is quite fresh, has a bit of a bite to it, and for a gentleman such as yourself, the absence of fur on your body is surely something you are bitter of." Randall smiled. He liked the way Pat talked, even though half of the stuff was utter nonsense.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" he said thoughtfully. There was a moment of silence. "Did ya hear that, earlier?"

"Specify."

"T-the gun-shots, over there." Randall nodded in the direction that he had heard them, shivering. "I'm worried about the girl."

"Girl?"

"Yeah, the one that lives over there, with that guy. I have a feeling that he's not treating her too well."

"And this matters to you because…?" There was another pause, in which Randall sighed.

"She…helped me. Not many people do that…y'know…help. Especially not a guy like me…" He drifted off, his words being whipped away by the wind.

"Dawn arrives soon," Pat began, ignoring what had just been said. "But if you plan on taking action, it would be preferable that you do so at night." Randall nodded. "Then, you should get some rest now. Let your mind settle." The lizard-monster crawled over into the corner that Pat had been occupying and curled up under the blanket. He smiled at Pat in his resting place before turning over and attempting sleep. It was hard, at first, and he found a few tears trickling down his face more than once, especially when he began to think about how sane he had been acting recently. He felt so much better, mentally, and enjoyed it when he could have proper conversations with his only friend.

But sometimes, something inside of him would turn his thoughts, his mind, and the Randall that he knew would be gone for at least a good twenty-four hours. He hated it when that would happen, and he found himself being afraid of his own actions. It was a bit like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, except that when he was in the 'Mr Hyde' phase, there would be a little bit of his brain that could see and remember everything that was happening, and this had the same effect as a small child watching a truly terrifying horror movie.

With these final thoughts, Randall went to sleep, and dreamed of creeping downstairs in the middle of the night with his sister when he had lived with his parents as a child, tip-toeing to the living room and switching the television on to catch the latest horror show. Marie, his sister, had never enjoyed this, but, in her opinion, leaving her brother alone with the TV was a much worse idea than being frightened out of her wits…

Patterson stroked his beardless chin, considering something, and turned around. Randall was fast asleep in the shadows.

Perfect.

He crept past the scaly monster whose body was rising and falling gently, heading towards the trunk in which he had carved some makeshift steps to be able to get down to the ground. His feet pawed the fallen leaves gently on the earth and, once he had made his bearings, Pat headed directly north, counting his paces.

"…Forty-nine…Fifty." Soon enough, he had reached the right tree, and was able to climb it with relative ease. "Brilliant," he whispered, noticing the sun that had only began to rise. Once he had reached the fifth branch to the left, he sat down on it and stuck a claw through a hole, and as he pulled it back out, a large piece of bark fell off with it. Maggots and millipedes crawled out like a wave of water, but Pat was interested in finding only one thing.

His face broke into a rare grin as he retrieved what he had been looking for. It looked like a plain, smallish metal box with some buttons, and this was exactly what it was. Patterson turned a knob on its side, grinding his teeth at the radio static. Finally, a voice was to be heard.

"KFE, niner niner, do you hear me?"

"I recieve you. Plan 54 is good to go, most certainly."

"Stage A, B or C?" Pat chuckled.

"Do you not trust me? I am past those basic stages, and am ready to proceed with bringing 'Freak-E-Deak' into town."

"Good. Contact in 72 hours, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Confirm, 72 hours, I repeat, you have 72 hours to get 'Freak-E-Deak' on his way."

"I confirm."

"Over and out." Pat twisted the knob once more and put the radio down to one side. Then, he stuck his arm into the hole once more, producing a slightly out-of-date bar of chocolate, and broke a piece off, chomping into it, pleasure written all over his face.

"Excellent."

----------------

"Chris…No, don't…c'mon…" Joanna's voice was muffled by a piece of dried crocodile skin being stuffed in her mouth. She struggled against the rope, wincing as it chaffed her bare arms, but the bind was tight. Chris watched her balefully.

"You ain't going nowhere now, Jo. You are gonna stay here with me." The chair that Jo had been attached to scraped on the floor as she wiggled her body about, and Flipp barked loudly, worrying about his owner. Chris threw the dog an evil look and picked up the shotgun that was leaning against the sofa, never letting his eyes drift away from the animal's own black pupils. "Bye bye, Flipp," he started, his voice gruff and menacing, "Have fun in doggy hell."

A gunshot only metres away from where Randall and Pat were hiding made them jump in shock. The plastic curtains of Jo and Chris's home were taped shut and covered with another material, so as not to let any passer-bys with particularly long noses peer in from outside, but nothing could withhold the sharp sound of bullet hitting flesh. Randall picked up a handful of moist soil, letting it sift between his fingers, and resisted the urge to throw it at something; Patterson was watching closely, and the lizard-monster had grown very suspicious of his only friend.

It was the way that Pat had acted that very day that had caused these underlying suspicions to be aroused, and they hadn't settled yet. His eyes continuously darted from left to right when not focused on Randall, and his grip, once firm and powerful, had now been reduced to slippery nervousness- Randall had felt this as, a second after the initial gunshot, Pat had grabbed his fronds and yanked him down to the ground, pushing both their faces in the mud as a safety precaution.

He was not to know that Randall had a little ability up his sleeve; an ability that, though he had not been able to control it for the past few months, seemed to gradually be returning back to his body. The scaly could now turn invisible in a short instant, though this instant was noticeably more lengthy compared to his previous records.

Now, face down in the soil, he grimaced. The gunshot hadn't exactly been promising, and he didn't like the idea of having come back to a place he would rather have forgotten about for no reason. This was just an excuse though- an excuse for the guilt he was feeling for not having come to Jo's rescue sooner. Something had been holding him back- at least, that was what he kept telling himself- though precisely _what_ had been holding him back was, on a rare occasion, completely beyond him. But now wasn't the time for excuses or reasoning or any of that kind of stuff, no.

Now was the time for action.

Randall lifted his head up, grabbed Patterson's hand, informing him that it was not necessary to keep a hold of his fronds and that doing so was, in fact, making him feel very hot, and pushed it to one side. Pat looked up, puzzled, and Randall's reply was a stiff nod. Swilling the spit around in his mouth, Pat shrugged very slightly and decided that it was best to leave the rest of whatever Randall planned to do up to Randall; all of this had been his idea, after all. If he was to be honest, he would admit that he didn't really care about the humans or what Randall was about to do, as long as the lizard-monster didn't get hurt as a result of it. He needed the scaly to be as fit as a fiddle for the journey they were going to start on the next day, but he couldn't tell Randall anything _about_ this particular journey as it had been a strict order from his boss's boss that everything that had been organised was to be kept a secret from him.

Anyway, if he had been told, how likely would it that he would actually WANT to go on the journey? So, Pat decided to tell Randall to be careful, sure, but only because they were such good 'friends' and Pat wouldn't want his 'friend' to get hurt now, would he? And if he did so, maybe Randall would stop giving him swift sideward glances and untrusting actions. Unfortunately, Randall had been a lot more intelligent than Pat had bargained for. Sure, the guy had managed to outwit the company several times without even knowing what he had been doing, but it was not as though outwitting the company was a particularly straining task. Anyone could do it, as long as they weren't a one-celled organism. Oh, and they also had to have the knowledge of knowing that the company actually existed.

But…then again, Randall had outsmarted even the highest levels of authority of the company's without knowing of its existence, and _that_ had been when he was only a child…

The current centre of Pat's thoughts moved forwards a few inches, beginning to crawl around the side of the shabby building. Randall knew exactly what he was doing, and his plan also enabled him to keep his ability confidential, away from the eyes of Pat. This was, as a matter of fact, why he had told Pat that they would hide behind the building; this meant that to enter the house, he would have to go around the other side of it, and that would mean that although he would have to wait until he had reached the front door to turn invisible, Pat would end up not knowing a thing, which was, in Randall's opinion, absolutely perfect.

Only the bushes revealed his presence as he turned the corner to reach the front door, and when the soft, warm, weed-covered soil gave way to cracked concrete, he got up on his fours, dusting his dirty hands off. He took a deep breath. This was probably going to be reasonably painful, and Randall wasn't exactly looking forward to it, but to be able to shift again…He concentrated, and slowly, slowly, slowly…disappeared.

Randall felt a lot more strained than he thought he would and swayed slightly, his skull seeming to shrink to put the most immense pressure on his brain. A few seconds of time-out later, he lifted his arms and hands up, and was relieved to see nothing. He suddenly experienced a sensation that he would only rarely encounter- it was as though he was home again, in his small, horribly decorated apartment with the soft, squishy sofa and black and white TV, with a massive bed much too big for the room, with the microwave that he relied on to make up for his inevitably bad cooking.

And there were all his little projects that he would work on in the evening, and his wall covered with bookshelves that were filled with everything on the earth but books, and that smell of coffee that had been stained into the air…So many birthdays and Christmases had passed, and no-one had ever thought to get him a coffee machine as a present. Then again, no-one ever really thought to get him anything.

Randall clutched the tightened door-knob and turned it, all of these thoughts swimming around in his head. He needed to clear his mind now, otherwise end up as a prize trophy. Sure, _that_ wouldn't be a bad existence, but the lack of changing scenery made Randall cringe.

He would have to be quick, he knew, and quick he was. Darting into the room at a speed that even he hadn't realised he could manage, Randall assessed the situation, which was easy enough as there was a trail of half-dried blood leading to the mangled body of a dog, and a girl tied to a chair. In a second his brain had worked out that the previous shot had been for poor Flipp, the four-legged friend that had peed himself a total of thirty-seven times because of Randall's impending presence, and that the girl tied to the chair was, of course, Jo.

Randall had been just in time and the scene in front of him showed it; Chris's gun was cocked and Jo, bound up, was refusing to cry, glaring at her partner relentlessly. The monster's sudden entrance had caught Chris's attention right away. He actually seemed almost scared of any movement, and this sparked a bit of hope deep inside Randall. Maybe, if he caught that pathetic example of a human unawares, there might be some hope.

Jo looked up only when Chris had moved his aim off of her. He pointed directly at the door as it creaked slowly closed, having been slammed roughly against the wall, but found that he could see nothing. The complete silence in the room did nothing to aid Randall's mission, and although he was acting as fast as he could, the pitter patter of his feet was worrying him. What if Chris heard it and managed to figure something out?

On the other hand, Randall had the element of surprise on his side because as far as he knew, Chris thought that he had died as a result of the shot that had caught him. It was rather the contrary- all it had done was loose him the use of an arm for a few weeks, and he soon recovered.

And now, he was moving just like the old days.

Randall whipped round the side of Chris, causing a breeze to ruffle his torn trousers and making him spin around on the spot, following the source of the wind with his gun. Randall kept going, jumping up on the wall for a second and then pouncing off, landing inches away from Chris's feet. He continued, his movements, if they were able to be seen, looking as though it was a routine that Randall had practised for years and years, perfecting it so that even the tension in his muscles was pinpointed to give him maximum gracefulness.

Chris was utterly dumbfounded and also looked utterly ridiculous, spinning around on the spot whilst wielding a gun. He soon felt dizzy and stopped moving for a while as Randall carried on circling him. A scaly tail knocked over a vase full of dead flowers, sending it crashing to the floor where it shattered, grabbing Chris's attention once more. He was fed up and shot randomly at the space where the vase had been, but missed the creature he was trying to catch by more than anyone could expect; Randall was currently perched on the ceiling and looked down at the situation from above. He let a grin come to surface for a split second before releasing his hands and feet.

Like an angel from above, Randall fell directly onto Chris, knocking him out. He stood up, checking the body by prodding it with a toe and, once satisfied, turned to Jo who had been watching the action with a mixed reaction of confusion, relief, and sheer joy.

"Easy." Randall wallowed proudly in the glory for a few seconds but was kicked into gear when Chris's body stirred. He went over to Jo, biting the rope with sharp teeth and peeling back the tape. As soon as she had been released, Jo began to chatter.

"Oh, thank you, thank you! I didn't know if I was gonna make it back there, but thanks to you-"

"Alright, I get the idea. Let's just get going- do you have anywhere else you can stay for the night?"

"Well…I don' know. I mean, I could stay with Auntie Susannah, but she might-"

"That's fine, let's just go before this idiot wakes up." Jo blinked.

"…You mean, you're not gonna…finish him off?" Now it was Randall's turn to blink.

"Finish him off? What do you think I am, a hitman or something?!" Jo stuttered, trying to back her side of the argument up but not managing to say a full word that was in the dictionary, or rather, the English dictionary- she managed to say quite a few Martian words unknowingly, but this did not, fortunately, end up in any alien contact. "Why were you even with him anyway? I mean, did you have some kind of deal going- 'oh, you can come live with me, as long as you try and KILL me on a DAILY BASIS'?! What's _wrong _with you?!" The startling impression of the local accent made Jo want to snigger a little, but the serious look upon Randall's face told her that it wouldn't be a brilliant idea.

"Well…My ma always said that she was so proud that I'd found a man…she'd be so sad if we split up…"

"Your ma…?" Randall spluttered, his eyes widening. "You…" He shook his head, lost for words, and paused for a second. "You really _are _stupid, aren't you?"

"YOU go an' tell me what to do, then." Randall pretended to think hard, resting his chin on a hand. An imaginary light-bulb above his head lit up and his voice was so filled with pure contempt that he was practically scared of the tones himself.

"Hey, _I_ have an idea," he began, as though talking to a teacher. "How about…YOU LIE?!"

"But- But-"

"Let's just get outta here before your brain explodes with all of that thought, alright?" Chris was moaning with pain, and as he was regaining consciousness, he was rolling over and beginning to reach for his gun. "C'mon, let's go." Randall ushered Jo out of the door and blocked it with the rusty car door that had fallen off and had been placed against the wall near the front window, hoping that this was enough to deter the nutcase.

"Randall, what are you waiting for?" Jo whispered, her face being blocked by the mist drifting out of her mouth. She wrapped her dressing down around her body tightly and rubbed her legs together, trying to keep warm. Randall was standing by the door, listening out for any signs of movement.

"You go," he whispered back, "and I'll deal with him. Just get to wherever you're going and you'll be fine."

"But Ran-"

"Just _go_." His tone was final, and Jo knew of this lizard-monster's renowned stubbornness. There was silence.

"Thanks." There was a lot of warmth and feeling wrapped up in this word, and Randall could feel it. He smiled at Jo, and realised for the first time that, in his exile, he had not made one friend, but two. This distraction was to prove almost fatal, though. A bang was to be heard from inside, and the door shook and wobbled in its frame. The car door managed to hold it closed, but Chris was not to be kept inside his own home- or rather, Jo's home; she had paid for the place, after all.

A bullet shot through the window, causing it to crumble and match its partner, and an arm was stuck through it. Chris emerged, a manic scowl splattered across his red face. Pat, having heard all of the commotion, had come round the front to join Randall. He gave him a panicked and questioning look.

"Randall, what on earth-"

"You don't wanna know. Let's just get outta here." Together, they ran down the driveway, but Chris's powerful glare bore into their backs. But, unbeknownst to them, Randall was not Chris's target. The mad man disappeared around the corner, and a pair of bright yellow lights was switched on. The sound of a powerful, rumbling engine met their ears. Tyres screeched against the mud, and when Randall turned around, he came face to face with a large rusty truck that was frowning menacingly at the pair of them. Pat muttered a quick 'oh dear' before running like a rabbit that refused to be scared of headlights, though refusing to be scared was pretty much the exact opposite of his current emotions.

"PATTERSON, YOU GET BACK HERE OR…you…Oh dear indeed..." The truck was moving very fast, and it seemed as though Chris wanted to kill two birds with one stone- he would go after Jo with the truck and kill the monster with the truck while he was at it.

Randall dived out of the way, but he was a second too late. His body glanced off the bonnet, flittered over the roof and landed hard on the ground. Something inside of him cracked. His eyes began to water, or he might've been just crying with pain, but whatever it was, it made it doubly hard to see the truck speeding off into the night.

Pat emerged from the bushed nervously and, upon seeing a longish figure unmoving on the ground, used his lengthy legs to run over to the battered lizard-monster.

"Oh my, Randall, are you alright?" There was no answer, just a lot of wincing. "The truck has gone now- undoubtedly heading to town. We are unable to catch them, Randall. The matter is closed, and I hope you are happy with the results." Scolding over, Pat leaned over his friend, concerning governing his features. "Are you in any pain?"

"I think I've broken something…" Randall said quietly, hugging himself where it hurt- his side.

"That is…incredibly unfortunate." What Pat wanted to say was, "How DARE you do something so STUPID! Stupid, stupid, STUPID!" because this was really messing with his plans. How was Randall going to get to town with him now? He would have to inform his boss that the plan would have to be held back a few weeks longer, and this was something that the boss would _not _be pleased about.

Then again…If Chris was headed towards town and Pat wanted Randall to go to town…All he needed to do was to convince Randall that that was indeed where Chris was headed, and the primitive lizard would just go after him, wouldn't he? What a brilliant idea! Pat was certainly proud of his ingenious, and in his opinion, he had a right to be.

"Randall, my friend, I have had an idea." Randall opened his eyes, showing Pat that he was listening. "All we need to do is follow Chris to town, and we are sure to bump into him at some point or another!"

"But isn't town…a long way away? I don't think I can go very far…"

"We can go at a slow pace. It may be a long way to town, but once we begin our journey, the time will just fly by! And you, my friend, can have your revenge." Pat, in Randall's opinion, was acting much too happy. But he did, admittedly, have a point, and to get revenge on Chris was all that he wanted. He also needed to make sure that Joanna had made it to her Aunt's house safely, and since Chris's truck seemed to have a reasonable amount of power, he could catch up with Jo very quickly- she hadn't had had much of a head start.

"Okay…but…a slow pace, right…? I swear I've broken a rib…"

"We can go as slow as you like, Randall, my friend. As slow as you like."

-------------------

They'd been walking for three days. It was hard work, even for Patterson who was not used to such strenuous activity- life in the swamp had been a lot more luxurious for him than for Randall, as the company he worked for had a rule of treating their most loyal and hard-working employees. Everyone had had the opportunity to try the exams that were given to get the place of 'Swamp Watcher', but few passed, and of those that had passed, Pat had been selected. He was very proud of this fact, and enjoyed the recognition that he had first received. And, although he hadn't returned to the Monster World for a good five years, he knew that when it was his time to go back home, he would be able to enjoy a hero's welcome.

There hadn't been much company for the first two years of his stay either, but Pat had known this when he signed himself up for the trials. It had, as a matter of fact, been one of the key elements that had driven most hopefuls away- the lack of a social life. The only monsters Pat had ever seen before Randall in the swamp were the ones that brought him food, clean drinking water and supplies, and they hadn't been the talkative type, to say the least. But Pat didn't mind. He never had many friends as a child, and the few who had risked a relationship with the monster had always come out the worse for it. His mother would always say that he just wasn't the compatible type, but Pat knew really that he just didn't like having friends. They always seemed to interfere, they'd never leave you alone even if you told them straight that you didn't want any company at that moment, and they would always, _always_ try to cheer you up.

That was what Pat hated the most. Why did they always bother to act as though their lives were full of sunshine and happiness and little pink bunny rabbits wearing top-hats? It might be so, but why shove it in everyone else's face? And no matter how much his family would try and encourage him to persist, to keep looking, because maybe one day he might find the perfect friend to share his life with, he never had any hope.

Until Randall.

He was _so_ different, _so_ accepting of life itself that Pat began to trust his nosy relatives. Nothing annoyed Pat about Randall. He didn't have any disgusting habits (except for shedding once in a while, but that was something that couldn't be helped) and, if told to bugger off, to put it simply, he would. It was like he understood…everything! Every little detail about Pat's personality, his moods and temperaments, seemed to have already been burnt into Randall's brain, and it was such a phenomenon that, for a while, Pat concerned defying the company. Sure, there were lots of little perks to his job, but to lead his only friend to his death…

Of course, he had to act as though he and Randall weren't really friends; the company would skin him alive if they heard word of this. But it was such a shame that fate had to be altered just for some guy's sick desire for revenge. And it _had_ been fate, it must've been- shortly after the anniversary of Pat's two-year stay in the swamp, he got a message from some director of the company saying that one of the key targets had been detected in the swamp, and that he should find him and keep him healthy, keep him living until they would tell him to do otherwise.

He hadn't liked the idea at first- to have company after such a long time alone would be a change that he wasn't willing to adapt to. But this wasn't the only change he would have to deal with; there was also the fact that the original mission brief, to lie in wait for the takeover convoy, had been scrapped. Okay, so waiting for two years in an alligator-infested swamp hadn't been much fun, sure, especially since the deal was for him to stay for six months maximum, but it was like he was leaving a job unfinished.

He argued with his superiors over the radio, and they had finally agreed that all he would have to do is take Randall to the closest town, meet his new escort, and then return to the swamp. They had given him the name of this escort, but, contrary to his usual brilliant organisational skills, he had forgotten it. He knew the name of the house that they were to meet at though, and that would be enough; there wouldn't be any other monsters around- the company had made sure of it- so whoever it was wouldn't be too hard to spot.

But now, Pat had become somewhat attached to Randall, and since his boss had made sure to describe what would happen to the lizard-monster in detail, he had begun to have second thoughts. He had already been beginning to turn against the company a few years back when they had first told him that his original six month stay had been increased to a year, and then two years, then five…Revenge did seem incredibly tempting, and any punishment he would receive couldn't be any worse than staying in that dratted swamp, could it?

Pat looked over to a struggling Randall and sighed. If only the choice was easier to make.

"We can stop for a rest now, if you wish. It's almost sundown." Randall nodded, relieved, and sat down where he was. They had been travelling down a rough road, and not a single car had passed since the beginning of their journey, which had spoilt his idea of hitching a ride to town. It would take a lot longer on foot, and Randall was now thinking that by the time they would reach their destination, Chris would already have arrived back home. The lizard-monster admitted that he was holding back Pat, but he couldn't go any faster- there had been several times in the past three days when he was on the brink of collapsing in pain, and the only thing that had kept him going was the idea that he might be able to save Joanna.

Of course, this wasn't the only reason he was so eager to go to town. For all he knew, Joanna might not even be there- she had told him many a time the whereabouts of her closest friend's house, but he had never actually visited the place, and this didn't do much to aid their journey time. No, there was something much more important that awaited Randall in town, and this drove him on like nothing else; doors. But not just any doors, no.

_Active_ doors. Doors with monsters going through them to scare their allocated children, doors that led back into the Monster World, back home. Randall had a secret suspicion that Pat was thinking about this too- whenever he mentioned how much further they had to go, Randall could spot a little glint in his eye, a glint that had never been there previously. Pat wanted to go home too. He could tell.

And that was probably because Patterson had a wife, or maybe even some children, or some really good friends that missed him and that wanted him back. Pat probably had a lovely life awaiting him. All that joy, happiness, satisfaction with existence in itself, _love_, it was probably all there. In Pat's life. Not Randall's. Pat's.

This was the one thing that made Randall hate Pat with all of his might, like he hated Wazowski and Sullivan and anyone else who had nice, enjoyable lives but took them for granted. This hate never came through his voice or features though, of course, but how he wished that Pat would tell him what his life really was like, as this hate was caused only by assumptions. Randall dreamed of Pat telling him how terrible his own life was, and how pleased he was that they were in the swamp together. But this wouldn't be true, would it? Because what else could explain that little glint in his eye whenever he mentioned town, if he didn't have anything to look forward to in the Monster World?

"We got anything to eat?" Randall asked, feeling his broken rib slip and slide inside his body as he sat down on a slimy log. Pat joined him and, upon the question being asked, began to rummage around in the two bags that he had been carrying. One of these bags was in Randall's possession, but he had been in much too much pain to carry anything heavy and all of the food that Pat had prepared the night before weighed the sack down even more. Pat had had a feeling that something was going to happen that evening the previous night, so he had caught as much edible stuff as he could, thinking that it might come in handy.

"We have the entire makings of a banquet, if you ask my opinion. A grand choice here, between rat…" He paused, looking up for Randall's reaction.

"Boring."

"Ants?"

"Not filling enough."

"Fruit and berries?"

"Too healthy."

"Well," Pat said, trying not to smile, "I think that is our lot. You had better choose, or I shall have to eat the entire confection!"

"Oh, come on, there's something else in there. I can tell. Rats, ants, fruits and berries don't fill up two large sacks, y'know." Pat manage to keep a straight face, considering his options, and eventually decided that, rather than being cruel, he would take the nice choice.

"Alright, your intuitions are correct- there is something else in the bag, but I'd rather you didn't eat any of it."

"Because you wanna scoff it all, right?"

"No, no, of course not! It's just…I didn't think you'd be too keen on it."

"I know it's meat, Pat, I can smell it, and believe me, I'm more than keen on meat."

"Not all meat, surely?" Randall grinned toothily.

"I'm yet to find one that I don't like."

"So you are fond of chicken, turkey, lamb…?"

"How could anyone _not_ be fond of those things?"

"…pork, fish…?"

"Does fish count as a meat? I'm not sure…But yeah, I like it." There was a strained pause.

"…Alligator…?" Randall's green eyes flashed in the darkness as he comprehended exactly what Pat had just said.

"Alligator?" He tested the word out, spitting each syllable as though there was a piece of alligator meat in his mouth at that very moment, and glared even more sharply as Pat gave a look that said 'yes, but please don't kill me.' "I was gonna ask how you managed to get 'gator meat, but to be completely honest, I don't really want to know."

"It was lying dead on the bank-"

"La la la, I'm not listening, okay?"

"Rotting away, flies buzzing around it-"

"Not listening, not listening-"

"Bones sticking out at awkward angles-"

"ALRIGHT! I GET IT!" Pat couldn't help it- his face broke out into a smile that seemed to light up the whole scene.

"So, I presume that you don't want-"

"No. I don't." Randall eyed the bags, shaking his head and trying to ignore the smirk that was practically being thrown at him. "Just pass over a rat." Pat did as he was told, purposefully restricting his own reach, making Randall have to lean over. Pain shuddered through the lizard-monster's body and the rib slid further.

He bit into the rat hungrily, tearing off the meat without any care, and curled his tail around the log; he could feel his body slowly slipping off the moss. Pat didn't take anything out of either of the bags for himself, and he had good reason not to- one was indeed filled with the list of provisions he had mentioned, but the other was filled with scrumptious food, some of which Randall had probably never even heard of. There was, although, one factor of the menu that wasn't there- the alligator.

It had been a lie, and a convincingly executed lie at that. Patterson knew that Randall would be suspicious of exactly what the sacks contained, and the alligator meat had been the perfect alibi, though it admittedly had been a bit of an impulse. And it had been a far stretch- for all he knew, Randall might not have cared about eating a fellow reptile's meat- and whether or not he was even reptilian was something that Pat was unsure of.

"Where's your food?" Pat looked up, surprised by the question, and faltered before answering.

"I-I'm not particularly hungry."

"Not hungry?" Randall was nonplussed. "We've been walking practically non-stop for three days now, and you're not hungry? What are you, Supermon?"

"I can't control the moods of my stomach, Randall. If I'm not hungry I shall not force myself to eat, regardless as to whether anyone in my company is consuming food at the time." This stern, defensive tone of voice did its job.

"I was just asking why you weren't eating. Y'know, concern for another friend? Ever heard of that?" A disbelieving glance was shot from Pat's side. "Fine. I won't care if you don't want me to." Randall got up, holding his side, and went around the log, soon settling down on a particularly soft pile of leaves by the roots of a large tree. All the while, Pat looked on and, every now and then, took note of Randall's state. It took the lizard-monster a surprising amount of time to get to sleep, but it was still quite light. Pat's stomach was growling ferociously, and by the time his friend was in the land of nod, he felt almost faint with hunger.

He scrambled across the log to reach the sacks and pulled out an astonishing variety of food. Ultimately, he decided on caviar and chips, an unusual combination, he knew, but one that he liked. He remembered one time when he was back at home in the Monster World and had fancied getting some fish and chips for him and his wife. When he arrived at the Chippie, he noticed a sign hanging on the door that stated, 'due to stocking problems we are not able to serve any fish until tomorrow. As a substitute we are providing caviar. Sorry for any inconvenience caused.' According to Patterson, there was no inconvenience- he liked chips and he liked caviar- so he couldn't find any problems with mixing the two together.

His wife had, though. She had never had caviar before, and that was lucky in itself. The allergic reaction that she had suffered had meant that an ambulance had to be called, and later that night, she died, all because a fish and chip shop had run out of fish and had decided that fish _eyes_ would be a reasonable equivalent.

Anyone in Patterson's position would've sued, but he didn't. Rather, he felt that he should thank whoever's idea it was to replace the fish with caviar in the first place, and even wrote a letter to the people who had gotten the eyes out of the fish because they had rid him of a wife that he had loathed to the point of wanting to murder her, but he didn't want to have to suffer the consequences.

Of course, he never told anyone that the previous day he had stolen the entire supply of fish out of the back of the shop and replaced it with caviar, because if he had, he would then have had to suffer the consequences anyway. He also kept it a secret that, also the previous night, he had injected his wife with a concoction of chemicals that would cause her to be allergic to caviar. Where he had got this knowledge to be able to make the right mix of substances he didn't know because it was a piece of information too specific for him to bother to remember.

Pat looked at a piece of caviar and smiled a thoughtful smile before dunking a chip in it. You couldn't get much better than caviar and chips.

_------------------------_

_And I know my wife…Is the Devil's woman...Can't get rid of her…She's the Devil's woman.._.

The lorry driver hummed the tune cackling out of the radio absentmindedly, letting his head bop to the rhythm of the tambourine. It was a very basic song, and old too, but a favourite of his. It was also a bit of relief from all of the driving he had had to do recently, and although the overtime did come in handy, he really didn't fancy driving that evening- it was his son's birthday, and he had wanted to be there as his pride and joy blew out the candles on his cake.

His eyes flickered to the digital clock on the dashboard. It flashed 1:34 almost satisfyingly. And the driver's wife always complained that he wasn't committed to his work…!

Something made the whole lorry jolt sickeningly, and Jerry slammed the brakes on, making the lorry skid to a halt. Letting his mind drift was, admittedly, a bit of a worrying habit of his, and he knew that whilst driving in the pitch black he had to be especially careful. He was afraid of dying with a wife and child waiting at home, although he wasn't particularly fond of the wife…A weird thought suddenly passed through his mind about caviar and chips. He must be going mad.

Cautiously, he opened the lorry door and clambered down, flattening the soft ground with his heavy boots. Jerry knew he shouldn't even be there, on a side road, but he had fancied a short-cut to save a bit of time. Whatever damage that had been caused would come out of his wages, and he sighed at the thought.

As he walked around the side of the vehicle, he produced a torch from a pocket and flicked it on. The beam of light illuminated a pair of tyres, one of which was obviously deflated. Jerry growled, annoyed and, not managing to think of anything better to do, prodded it with his torch. Nothing happened. He kicked it. Still nothing happened. As a last resort, he began to think about actually replacing the tyre. It would involve effort, which was the problem, but since he couldn't call anyone in the middle of the night to help him, it was the solution that made the most sense. And anyway, he had training for this sort of thing. Whether he could actually remember it was a small detail.

Jerry walked around to the back of the lorry, aware of the trees surrounding him that were waving their branches like a wizard casting a spell. Their fingers seemed to interlock, creating a cage above and around the wary human. He didn't like this place much, especially not in the middle of a remarkably chilly night.

The back door of the lorry was slid upwards revealing an astonishing number of empty boxes, along with the equipment that Jerry needed. Great- if he could get on with the job, he'd be out of that creepy place in no time.

-------------------

A long, echoing screech had awoken Randall and Pat. Randall was only roused a little at first- he was cold and shivering, and didn't want to move- but Pat had woken up with a start. He had selfishly kept the blanket to himself, not wanting to share; this would make Randall even more ill, and if Randall was ill, perhaps he wouldn't want to continue travelling to the town. It was worth a shot, although Pat knew from experience that the want, no, the _need_ to return to the Monster World was a very strong thing indeed, and whether being physically unwell and unable to get there would deter Randall from his quest was something that Pat could not be certain of.

Not too far in the distance, two wide beams of light were illuminating the road. Spotting the opportunity, Pat jumped to his feet and was beginning to make his way over to Randall when a thought struck him. If his idea would work- hitching a ride on a human's vehicle to get to town- it meant that he would not even get a real chance to stop Randall from going there. But if they missed this ride and Pat did manage to save his friend from a painful death, it was very likely that _he_ would be the one at a risk to loosing his life.

Now was the time to make a choice- help a friend or receive endless riches for loyalty to the company?

Pat turned around, checking that the lorry was still there, and then faced Randall. Sadly and with a regretful look about his features, he touched the lizard-monster's shoulder, shaking it gently, relishing the touch of smooth scales against his rough hands.

"What…?"

"There's a lorry, my…my friend. We'll be able to reach town in matter of hours if we board it, though we must hurry- I believe its conductor had a small accident, and I fear that he will be ready to continue his journey before we can, as they say, hitch a ride." Randall grinned, suddenly and quickly, a little spurt of hope arising in his insides. It felt good, encouraging, and remarkably pleasant.

"Great, let's go!"

"But we must stay hidden. If we are caught, a fate much worse than living in the swamp awaits us." The lizard-monster nodded, comprehending what the pair of them had to do, and got up, still shivering violently. "I'll give you the blanket once we are safe inside the vehicle, Randall." They both crept towards the side of the road, still hidden in the bushes, and travelled down the tarmac a bit until the lorry was in full view, along with its driver.

"Should I shift?" Randall whispered, staring out at the man who was currently grunting and groaning with the effort of pulling the tyre off- he had loosened the four bolts that had kept it in place, and the only thing stopping him from continuing was the fact that this tyre hadn't been taken off the lorry's axis for a long while. Giving a small thumbs-up, Pat motioned towards the lorry, telling Randall that he should go now and that he could take care of himself. Randall raised his eye-ridges, questioning whether Pat was one-hundred percent sure about this, and the firm look that he received gave a clear answer. In a second, he was gone, and a second later, having whipped around the driver, climbed into the lorry and looked at what it contained, he was making himself comfortable among the boxes, but still making sure not to create too much noise or disturbance.

Pat was slightly worried about getting inside. He was a reasonably agile mover and was satisfied with this fact, but his large size made him all the more easy to spot. A distraction was needed, but what could he do?

According to Randall, Pat was taking much too long. He peered out of the lorry, just managing to catch his friend's eye, and winked. He turned invisible once more, snuck back out of the lorry and noticed the human's toolbox. Now, what would this human need to change a tyre? Randall smiled at the sight of a wrench that was half-hanging out of the box, signalling that it had been used previously.

"YEAH!" The sudden noise made Randall practically jump out of his scales, and when he realised that it was, in fact, the human that had made it, he felt like kicking him in the part of his anatomy that was stuck up in the air. To Randall's horror, the cause of this exclamation was the tyre having come loose. It was only a matter of time before the replacement was fixed on, so he would have to hurry up. He slowly lifted the wrench up, and then put it behind his back, still invisible, but making sure that his scales wouldn't shift to the wrench's colours, which actually made the wrench, from the human's view, unable to be seen.

Slithering around to the front of the lorry, Randall crept into the driver's compartment and placed the wrench on the dashboard, which would lead the human to the opposite side of the lorry to where Pat was going to enter. Brilliant.

"Hey…where's…" The human got up, scratching his derrière, and swivelled slowly around on the spot. He was utterly confused since he had just used the wrench moments before, and had left it… "…In the toolbox…" He knelt down to peer under the lorry, didn't find anything, got back up again, and eventually thought to check the front of the lorry. How it could ever have gotten there, he didn't know, but it was worth a try.

Randall, by that point, was once again arranging the boxes to his liking, smiling mischievously all the while- Pat was by his side.

"Not bad, huh?" Pat smiled too.

"Not bad indeed. I'm impressed, Randall, though I daren't imagine how you previously used that little gift of yours back in the Monster World."

"Y'know what? I don't blame you."

-----------------

"And so we made our way to the town. It was a long journey, six hours at least, and the guy made so many stops along the way we lost count. But we got there in the end, and what a sight _that_ was…" There was silence, with everyone in the room clinging on to every word that Randall had uttered in the past half an hour. So, when he didn't continue, there were objections.

"Well, what then?"

"Yeah, get on with it!"

"Yes, Randall," Andy said with a sarcastic and undeniably slimy tone, "_do_ go on."

"No." Randall had wanted to say that word by itself just for the reaction it would incur, and soon explained his reasons. "The time's gone by real fast, boys, and I've got a business to run."

"Can't your girlfriend do that?" one piped up, much to Randall's displeasure. Every word in the sentence following this was spat out bitterly, yet with an underlying softness.

"She _isn't_ my girlfriend." He shrugged. "Sorry guys, but I'm busy, and it's just not fair to leave Zephyr run the shop _and_ the café on her own. It isn't. So there ya go." Equally bitter looks were passed across the table, and if these looks had left lines as they travelled, the pattern would resemble a half-finished spider's web. "You can come back another time if ya wanna hear the rest, okay?" Everyone's eyes lit up, except for Andy's.

"I'm not even sure if I believe all of this rubbish." Randall shrugged once more, feeling weirdly at ease.

"Your decision." The group soon left, having eaten their lunches and paid their bills, and other general customers came and went throughout the duration of the remainder of the day. Randall spent most of his time out at the front, dealing with purchases as Zephyr dealt with food preparation at the back. They hadn't spoken to each other since the morning, and though they hadn't really had a need to, Randall still felt a little bit of underlying worry somewhere in his stomach. So, to settle this, when the shop became particularly quiet at once point, he went through to the café and soon spotted Zephyr clearing a table.

"Hey," he said sweetly, half-smiling at her. She didn't respond, instead carrying the dirtied dishes around to the kitchen. Randall followed after her, concerned, and his eyes widened in disbelief when Zephyr just carried on washing the dishes when he tried to talk to her. "Zephyr, what's wrong?" Having cleaned the final plate, Zephyr slammed it down onto the work top, causing a crack to edge its way through it, and glared at Randall strongly.

"What's _wrong?!_ Randall, you're telling a whole bunch of people you don't even KNOW about one of the most personal moments of our LIVES! I don't _care_ whether it's to get revenge on that Yulliman and Wanooki or whatever-"

"Sullivan and Wazowski."

"Whatever! It's still…It's still a really important bit of our lives, and I don't think you should be sharing it with those guys."

"But they're not just any guys! I used to _work_ with them! Well, most of them... and they deserve to know how cruel Sullivan and Wazowski really are!"

"Yeah, but you've got PAST _that_ bit, haven't you?! You got past the bit about your banishment-"

"Exile. Not banishment."

"Oh, who cares?!"

"I DO! _I _care, Zephyr, and the reason I'm telling them more than they need to know is because…well…I…"

"Go on."

"I needed to tell someone of what I went through, y'know…"

"You told me, isn't that enough?"

"NO! Y'know what, it ISN'T enough! I'm _fed up _of being friendless, of being alone-"

"But you're not alone! You have me! Aren't_I_ enough?"

"…I don't know. I…I don't seem to know anything about…about _life_ anymore…"

"Well I DO know. I know that you're the most amazing person I've ever met,"

"Shut up, Zephyr..."

"That you're underestimated when you really, truly are something great-"

"Just be QUIET, alright?!"

"And that I can't live my life without you, and that…"

"Zephyr, don't say it. Don't, don't even _think _it!"

"I love you." Tears welled up in the couple's eyes. Randall put a hand over his mouth and flinched when Zephyr reached out her hand to touch him- he needed to be alone. A few metres away, the phone began to ring, bringing the two of them back to their senses. Zephyr was persistent though, and her voice was filled with love as she talked.

"Randall, you can't deny-"

"Just answer the phone." Randall muttered this reply before storming out of the room, through the back door, and bounding up the stairs to their flat.

Rejected and shaken, Zephyr wiped away the tears trickling down her face and took a deep breath before going to answer the phone. The handset was cold and slippery, and the voice it emitted deep and booming.

-----------------

"Aah, Miss Stefani. How ya doing? Wait, no, I kid myself- I don' care. Just shut that boyfriend of yours well and truly up, otherwise we'll send a few guys round to deal with him. We don't need what happened in No Mon's Land to get out, alright? Just keep his mind on other things or, as I said, we'll have to deal with him, and things might get a little…physical, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Zephyr whispered a strangled 'yes' before putting the phone down.


	8. Not So Happy Memories

Sorry about the wait, people! It's just with Christmas and all of those stupid Mock SATS I've been very busy and haven't had the time to do any writing, which is also the explanation for why this chapter isn't as long as some others. Anyway, I've managed to do this chappy, though I don't think I'll be able to keep up posting chapters every two weeks, though I'll try. So, read and enjoy, and any nitpicks are welcomed!

Chapter 8- Not So Happy Memories

The words "Monstropolis News" danced across the TV screen and the day's main headlines were highlighted by Montgomery, the local news-caster. The general headlines did nothing to interest Randall- he didn't much care for how well the local schools were doing or that the new shop down the road that specialized in cheese had been open for a week- but when the words "Monsters, Incorporated" were mentioned in a stately voice, his fronds pricked up in attention.

A small box in the corner of the screen that had been showing clips related to the news grew larger until it filled the whole picture. Now showing a shocking clip of what had happened the months ago when something devastating had occurred in the well-known company's walls, Montgomery continued reading his sheets.

"Just four months ago, the scene at Monsters, Incorporated was truly a sight to behold. The building was up in flames and many employees of the company injured, though, luckily, there had been no fatalities. And the terrible news that the humans had been trying to invade shocked the nation." Randall leaned closer to the television, amazed by what he was hearing. "Many wondered whether Monsters, Inc. or, indeed, the world would ever be able to recover. But, fortunately the CEO of one of the country's biggest laugh companies had a positive and determined attitude to the damage caused." The clip now changed to one of the present day Monsters, Inc.- certainly better than before, but still in tatters. The camera, before looking up at the large dramatic entrance, now panned down, putting the CEO mentioned, along with a news reporter, into the picture. He was smiling nervously at the young woman before him, and as she squeezed a tentacle around the mike that one of the runners was holding, he put his hands behind his back and tried to look professional.

"What you see now is the current scene at Monsters, Incorporated. The company has been making slow progress, and to comment on this disappointment is the current CEO, James Sullivan." The monster turned up and towards Sulley, who had been put off immensely by what Miss Morrison (he had only just been able to read her name-tag) had just said.

"I wouldn't say that the progress was disappointing, as such," he began nervously, building up his confidence as he went along. He knew that this interview was important to the company's future, and this pressure was certainly taking its toll on him- he stuttered and faltered many a time. "Though it could be going a little better-" He was cut off.

"So how _would_ you describe it?" Miss Morrison asked in a way that seemed as though she was almost demanding an answer.

"S-something that'll improve with time, I guess-"

"Time is certainly something that Monsters, Inc. is short of, though, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, but if we had a little more help-"

"Of course, with this threat of a human invasion, I doubt many will be willing to help, especially if it entails risking their own lives." For the first time in the interview, Sulley was defiant.

"There is no threat! It was a false alarm!"

"And a false alarm creates such damage as this, does it?" Miss Morrison waved a tentacle behind her, pointing out the half-collapsed building. "I think we can all agree that what happened those four months ago was indeed an attempt at human invasion, and this shocking statement may mean a complete shut-down of all companies that collect laughter in the entire world."

"But-" Miss Morrison turned away from Sullivan, now addressing the camera.

"All comedians are risking their very existence, and are advised to terminate their contracts immediately, for their own safety."

"Advised by who!" She ignored this huffily.

"It seems, to me and to many monsters in this country, that the sad events leading up to the 23rd of February and following it are signifying the end of an era. New ways to create the power we have been harvesting for centuries are being investigated, but none have been successful as yet." Sulley had now given up, instead opting to glare at the bossy news reporter. "I am Samantha Morrison, and this is Monstropolis News. Back to the studio."

"And that was the scene today, at Monsters, Incorporated. Now, it looks like cheese is the new must-have food accessory…" Randall stopped listening, sitting back in his chair and staring at the TV screen blankly. Human _invasion…_? Did the humans even know of the Monster World's existence? And if they did, how long had they known for? Was this _really _the end of Monsters, Inc.? Or was it just all a big, fat rumour, like Sullivan had been saying, or rather, trying to say?

He sunk the tip of his thumb on a tooth, though not too far as to break the skin, and settled into deep thought. After a while, he decided to take a visit to Monsters, Inc. and see the destruction for himself- it was only a five-minute walk away down the road, and he needn't be too long. He got to his feet, the patch of the sofa that he had been sitting on inflating like a balloon, and popped to the cloakroom to grab his coat; although it was near the conclusion of June, the air was particularly nippy, still fresh as the sun had only just risen.

As he entered the front room once more, now with his long, black coat on, he literally bumped into Zephyr. The moment was awkward.

"Hey, Ran…" She half-smiled and licked her lips. Then, she noticed the coat and decided to point it out. "So…where are you going?" Randall wanted to just ignore this question, but instead he threw her a bitter look that lasted for barely a second, turning away.

"Out." Randall did as he said, and was soon gone. Zephyr looked at where he had been standing just moments before and tried to remember the look that she had just received from him. It had felt as though he were a lion-tamer that had been attacked by her, his favourite creature, and the food that he would feed to her were represented by their physical contact and, in some ways more importantly, their eye-contact, and now, instead of giving her large, filling meals, he had now reduced this luxury to a few pathetic scraps, as though he wished her to die.

And the love that she once saw in these eyes was clearly gone, leaving a cold, bare, hollow, black nothingness. There was only real one problem apart from this- Zephyr still loved him as much as ever, if not more.

The sun was now beginning to peak over the tallest of the buildings in the street. Time had gone quickly, but this was probably because Randall was really taking his time with walking, and also because he was, once again, in deep, deep thought. In some ways, he didn't really want to see MI again- not because he wasn't intrigued by what had happened there, but because of the memories that might surface once again.

He shuddered. Just thinking about it was worryingly painful, though not particularly surprising. Inching his way towards a building he had seen almost every day for six years at one point, Randall folded his arms and stared intently at the pavement. Maybe, if he didn't look at the building before he actually went in it, it wouldn't be so bad. But, then again, the reason that he was visiting the site in the first place was to see the outer structure and the state that it was in…

The thought of reliving all of those memories of what had happened just before his exile suddenly became too much for Randall, and he stopped in his stride, willing back the tears. He would have to be tough if he was going to be able to do this. Not only that- he would have to be tough if he was to live the next who knows how many years in this part of the world, especially with a shop that was almost constantly visited by old 'friends' of his.

Yeah, that's right. He'd managed to put up with seeing all of these monsters that had featured in a section of his life he'd rather forget, so why couldn't he do this? There wasn't an answer! All he has to do is walk straight up to factory, eyeball it for a little while, and leave! Then, he'd fine out the extent of the damage there and face up to something he'd been shying away from at the same time! Brilliant!

With a great big grin plastered across his face, Randall bumped into someone for the second time that day. He muttered a slightly sarcastic 'excuse me', disregarding his sudden mood change, and went to carry on with his mission. After about three or four steps (depending on whether you count the fact that he has four feet rather than the commonplace two) he stopped rather quickly and thought about turning around.

Randall really felt like throwing up, and if he was going to do so, he might as well turn around. The thing is, if his suspicions were wrong and the monsters that he had just bumped into weren't the monsters that he _thought_ he had bumped into, he would end up an utter fool.

Then again, if he was right…

Taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat off his hands, Randall slowly turned around. It was just as he expected, and the nauseous feeling he had been experiencing stopped, although he didn't know why- the two monsters standing metres away from him were the two monsters that he probably loathed most in the world.

They were staring; Mike with his jaw swinging open and Sulley with his eyes popping out of his head. They quickly remembered their manners though, and the big furry coughed politely before trying to smile.

"Hello, Randall…" He half-shrugged, struggling to think of something intelligent to say. Randall just narrowed his eyes. "How are you?" You could see by the look in Sulley's eyes that he was treading on eggshells, and was failing. If he actually _had_ been treading on eggshells at that point, his feet would no longer be recognisable. Randall, on the other hand, was trying very hard not to explode. How WAS he! What kind of a question was _that?_!

Before he could answer, the Cyclops butted in, the shock having subsided slightly.

"What are you doing here! You don't belong here! We got rid of you, for PETE'S SAKE! I mean, I heard all those rumours and everything about the guys going to your scruffy little shack or whatever, but I never thought that you'd actually-"

"Survive?" The old Randall, the Randall that had been shoved away in a dark closet to rot and get covered with ludicrously large cobwebs and to stay in the dark forever, the Randall that no-one was ever meant to see again, Zephyr included, stirred and woke up. "You slimy little _git_," he muttered, teeth clenched. He stepped forward, towering over Mike in absolute fury. "You really wanted me to DIE, didn't you? You're _sick_, y'know that? Completely _sick_." He then backed up a little, hoping that Mike had gotten the idea which, by the look on his face, he had, and tried to relax a bit. "You thought you'd gotten rid of me, but you haven't. I'm back with a vengeance although, by the sounds of things, my absence hasn't made your life any better."

"But-but HOW!"

"How'd I get back into the Monster World? I really didn't think you'd care. The only thing that matters at this very moment is that I'm _back._" Randall looked up at Sulley properly for the first time and noticed the strain in his eyes, not caused by himself, but by other matters. "CEO, huh? Hope you didn't plan on following in Waternoose's footsteps…Then again, maybe you'd be doing better if you had, hmm? I've got a coupla questions for you two, but there's really only one of 'em that you alone can answer." There was a pause.

"Randall, what happened at Monsters, Inc. is really none of your business," Sulley began hesitantly.

"Oh, isn't it? What if I said to you that I wanted to make it my business?"

"Then, I'd have to ask how you planned on doing so."

"And I'd answer, 'I'm gonna ask the CEO and his…annoying little sidekick… about what happened.'"

"And _we_ WON'T ANSWER!" Mike jumped up, feeling left out. His friend gave him a stern look that could be interpreted as either 'why don't _you_ get the popcorn for once?' or as 'for once, _please_ close your mouth because I know how to handle this situation and you, quite frankly, don't.' In this case, it was the latter.

Randall chuckled unnervingly. "Oh yes you will." His mouth broke into an outright grin as a plan was quickly formed in his mind. "Who, in this city," he said, waving his arms about him and performing the exaggerated hand gestures that he was known for, "knows about what you did to me? I can answer that- you two, and I. That's it, right?" They nodded.

_Perfect! _Randall thought to himself. _This means that the others haven't told these two about what I've been telling them in the Teacup, so they don't know that I've told anyone else which means I can blackmail them! And, coz the others haven't said anything, I guess I can presume that they wanna hear more of the story, so…_ "I could change that very easily."

"And who, Randall, would believe you?"

"I dunno. But are you really willing to take that risk? Because some of 'em might believe me, and _bang_! There goes your reputation…Or, rather, what's left of it anyways."

"You could never prove it."

"Oh…couldn't I?"

"No. You couldn't."

"You carry on saying that, and maybe one day you'll believe it, hmm?"

"How _would_ you prove it?" That was a mighty good question and, admittedly, one that Randall didn't have the answer to. Then again, THEY didn't know that, did they?"

"Let's just say that if I had a nose, I'd tap the side of it." The rising sun caused Randall's scales to shine and glimmer, and for a second, he looked as though he were an angel, albeit an angel recently kicked out of heaven. "Enough about me- what have you two been doing in your _amazing _lives?"

"Everything's GREAT, Randall," Mike shouted with an edge to his voice, "everything's just GREAT! I'm married to Celia, she's expecting, I'm Top Comedian down at Monsters, Inc…things couldn't be BETTER!" Randall shook his head.

"Sounds like, along with trying to convince me of how perfect your life is, you're trying to convince yourself. Wha'sa matter? Things not going to well down in Annoying Git Paradise?" Mike narrowed his eye at this remark, sticking his fist up, ready to make a reply, when his best buddy decided to contain his temper for him.

"Randall…" he muttered warningly.

"And how about you, then? Is being CEO really that _amazing_? Or does that sign down there," Randall motioned towards a string of posters plastered across a shop that had recently closed down and was currently unoccupied, "or more like _signs_, say it all?" The posters stated in big, red, badly drawn letters that because of the recent devastation over at MI, the workers there desperately needed help repairing the building, interior and exterior, and also with mechanical repairs regarding the equipment used by the Comedians.

Sulley did not give a reply, instead looking to his left and right, trying to avoid any eye-contact with the curious and somewhat intoxicating emerald green of Randall's irises.

"That silence, that silence there? It says it all." Randall grinned once more. "I want to volunteer."

"Volunteer?" Sulley was worried.

"I wanna help out at MI and everything." The confused looks that were passing between Mike and Sulley asked one very simple question. "Why? Well…The place holds a lotta memories for me, a lot more than you might think. And no matter what's happened there in the past…let's just say I want to keep a part of myself firmly stuck in the company's interests." His voice got low and quiet. "To be completely honest, I miss the place. Everything about it- the stupidly waxed floors, the never-ending corridors…even some of the…_obtuse_ employees, though to be COMPLETELY honest, they were always a bit of a pain." Mike muttered the word 'obtuse' questionably under his breath, to which Randall replied in a more than exasperated manner, "Thick, idiotic, someone who has problems telling the difference between a toothbrush and one of those chopsticks, whatever. It doesn't make any difference. What matters is that…I wanna go back."

"I'm going to have to think about this, Randall." Sulley could see the hope in his ex-workmate's eyes and wasn't too keen on dashing it, but letting him back in the company would be a very risky action to take indeed. "You haven't been the most trustworthy of monsters in the past, and although I know you're good with your hands, I'm still not sure that-"

"Oh, why don't you just come out and say it?" Randall was suddenly incredibly frustrated. "Why don't you just be honest, huh? 'You're sleaze, Randall, no-one in their right mind would ever let you through their doorway without a lethal weapon in hand! You're slimy, creepy, insufferable!'" He growled, anger erupting inside of him. "'You're a _freak_.'" Inwardly, he chuckled.

By the looks on Mike and Sulley's faces, his plan was working without a single flaw. Those two were such suckers for emotion.

He took a deep breath, pretending to hold back tears, and eyed the two for one last time, though he knew it wouldn't be. "Forget it. I'd never want to work under such a tyrant as you anyways." He turned around indignantly, beginning to stroll away at speed, when he heard his name being bleated out.

"Randall! Wait!" Sulley had jogged up to him, taking a hold of his shoulder and swivelling him round. "Look, if you want to help," he said breathlessly, "then…why not?" Randall scrutinized his expression, then, after another moment of silence in which Wazowski came to catch up with them, let an expression of joy glow from his features.

"…You're kidding me, right?" This was a key stage in Randall's plan- Sullivan had taken the bait, but whether or not Randall was able to reel him in was a very important part of his fishing, as it is in all fishing.

"No…no, I'm not. Come today, if you want, even." All the while Mike was protesting silently, but he soon stopped when Sulley chucked a fiery glare in his direction.

"Thanks." Randall made sure that this word was said in a very heartfelt, touched sort of way before declining. "But I won't be able to make it today- got to watch over the shop, can't really leave Zephyr to deal with the whole place on her own, expecting an order sometime this afternoon as well; I've got a pretty full schedule. Though I wouldn't mind taking a look at the damage, y'know…"

"Yeah, sure! Um, come with us!"

_Oh boy!_ Randall thought gleefully to himself. _That was so easy it was scary! I should look in the papers tonight for any job placements in the world of acting…And to use the term that is, well, overused, those two brain-dead zombies took the bait hook, line and sinker! _He resisted the urge to burst out in laughter and kept the somewhat sombre expression on his face the same to the exact pinpoint of every muscle.

As they began to walk to their destination, Mike muttering to himself in quiet fury, Sulley started to think very deeply regarding the whole situation. He had been relatively moved by Randall's little outburst, but this wasn't his main reason for letting the lizard-monster contribute to the repairs. No; what had convinced him to take this action was something that made a lot more sense- the basic fact that Randall could, and, by the sounds of it, already had, tell the story of what had occurred at MI those years ago. And no matter how long ago it had actually been, everyone, he knew, would listen, because the tiniest little bit of gossip, even without a single shred of evidence, always managed to turn into a giant monster of a rumour, and this was exactly what Sulley was worried about.

One side of his nattering conscience brought up the only doubt he had in those truths, and this was that because Randall was who he was- a scaley- a few of the monsters that he would tell might not believe him; they never had a reason to before, so why would they now? But if only one person _did_ believe him, and if that person happened to be quite influential and charismatic, everything would certainly go downhill from there. And if Sulley were to consider his _own_ reputation in the equation...He might've been popular once upon a time, but things had changed since then, and being CEO had always been more stressful than he had ever expected.

Which was exactly why he was being lenient concerning Randall's access- to stop him from blabbering, or, more like, to stop him from blabbering any more than he already had. The very idea of everyone knowing what had happened along with, as mentioned before, the pressures of being the CEO of a once huge company was completely unthinkable.

The three rounded a corner, and the terrible scene came into sight, making Randall gasp silently. The place he had always hoped and dreamed of working at as a child, the place that had been almost a second home to him as an adult, was leaning slightly to the left. Bricks and mortar along with a large spread of dust littered the car park immediately outside the entrance, and although there were no cars to be seen in that area, lengthy pieces of metal that looked as though they had once made up vehicles lay in amongst the rubble. The structure of the building itself seemed to be basically stable, but any decorations on the exterior of the place were wasted. Workers were dotted about the outside of the building, carrying large strips of metal and supplies, all working hard at whatever they were doing, looking like flies on a rotting piece of meat, although clearly not enjoying themselves as much.

Sulley turned to Randall and, seeing the devastated expression on his face, sighed. He had seen this expression on so many of his friend's faces, and even on passer bys, that it didn't seem to affect him anymore. Leading the way, he went through the gates of the car park and looked behind him, waiting for the other two to catch up.

"Uh, y'know," Randall began, nearly unable to take his eyes of the sight before him, "maybe I'd better head off home- Zephyr's waiting and…" Sulley nodded, understanding the situation- Randall suddenly had a nervous composition, and he appreciated why; after everything that had happened, coming back to Monsters, Inc. would be the hardest thing for the lizard-monster, and seeing it in such a state as this certainly wouldn't help matters. Mike, on the other hand, narrowed his eye at Randall, looking apprehensive.

"You sure about that, Lizard-Boy? I thought you'd be eager to return to MI- it holds so many memories, y'know, and I thought you might like to say 'hi' to a few of the guys, since you haven't seen them for such a long time-"

"Oh, believe me, I've seen 'em recently, and by the sounds of it, you two really aren't Mr and Mrs Popular."

"But that's going to change, isn't it Randall?" Sulley said, on the verge of a threatening tone but still trying to make it sound like a reasonable conversation. "Because you're going to say that everything you told them before was just a string of lies to keep them returning to your shop, and that we're trustworthy individuals, aren't you?" Randall nodded dismissively.

"Yeah, sure, no worries." He had turned, scolding himself for being such a wimp, when a quick thought popped into his mind. It was what some would call a mere detail, but he felt that if he didn't mention it, he would be betraying…well, himself. "And by the way," he began in a gruff voice, still walking, "do NOT call me 'Lizard-Boy'."

The shop, from the outside, looked dark. There was a slowly increasing crowd of monsters at its entrance, all waiting to go inside, and as Randall approached them all, a confused, bewildered expression crossing over his face, he gently came to a halt. Several monsters called out his name in jubilation, but the lizard-monster was only really listening to what Andy had to say.

"We came, as per usual, to your shop to find that it was closed. I'm not impressed Randall, not at all."

"But I only went for a walk! Zephyr was meant to open up…"

"It sounds as though you need to train that animal of yours- the way she kept eyeing us whilst we listened to your story. Incredibly rude." There was a pause in which Randall tried desperately to count the number of spots on the teenagers face in his mind (a little trick that had been told to him once by a random professor at his university who knew, as pretty much everyone else did, of his impending temper) but, for the first time in a while, this method failed. Andy leaned in closer, as though he were passing a great secret onto Randall, and whispered quietly, though loud enough for everyone else to hear, "She _is_ house-trained, isn't she? I would dread to think of-"

He was cut off by a purple fist coming into contact with his jaw, and fell to the floor heavily. Randall was never keen on physical contact, especially with the numerous bullies at his primary school, and high school, and pretty much everywhere he went (was there a possibility that there might be some special operation trying to make sure that in every stage of his life, there was someone to bully him? In Randall's opinion, there was definitely a likelihood of this) and with all of these memories, punching someone in the jaw was completely against his character.

Then again, he _did_ have somewhat of a temper.

Andy groaned, holding his jaw in a hand and, by the looks of it, try to put back but not managing to, and Randall towered over him proudly.

"I wouldn't come back if I were you Andy. Then again," he said, flashing a grin, "if I were you, I'd have committed suicide by now." Walking away satisfied, Randall tried the door of _Storm In A Teacup_. "Sorry folks- it's locked. I'll be back in a few." He went around the side of the building, going through a rusty gate that they hadn't been able to afford to replace, and went to a side door which, to Randall's knowledge, was always left open during the day.

Inside, as it seemed to be from outside, it was gloomy. Randall was keeping his eyes peeled raw for any signs of life, but for now, there was nothing. Luckily, he knew the layout of the place well, having been a part of the design team in the first place, and along with his highly reflective eyes, navigating the shop would be easy.

Going through the double doors that lead to the café at the back, Randall gave the room a quick scan before deciding that, like the other room, Zephyr was not here. There were only two places left to search- upstairs, around the flat, or the rest of the world. Randall opted for searching the flat first. He slithered up the wall of the stair well and shoved the key in its lock.

The sofa was lower than usual, and that meant only one thing. The blinds were down, and Zephyr's face was masked in darkness. Randall made sure not to do that annoying thing that all the stupid good guys do in horror films by avoiding calling out Zephyr's name, especially since he knew that she was there, so saying her name in the context of a question was just a waste of time, and also because in horror films, when the stupid good guys call out the person's name that they can see a bit of but cannot see the features of their face, they turn out to be a monster of some kind- the monster that's the whole subject of the horror film itself.

Zephyr's cheeks were tear-stained, and without thinking, Randall had already decided that he preferred the option of calling out her name coming face to face with a monster instead. But, although Randall, as a child, had drawn many pictures of his soon-to-be famous time machine, the thing had never actually come into existence, and so he therefore could not make the choice again. He sat down next to Zephyr's small body, appreciating her beauty in the darkness.

Rare were the times that Randall could do this- just sit and stare and appreciate- so when he did get the opportunity, he knew not to take it for granted. So he appreciated every element of her very being; the little nicks in her perfectly white skin that resembled scales in one way but didn't another; the hood on each side of her graceful, long neck as a cobra has, rising and falling ever so slightly with each breath; her thin, winding tail with a tuft of bright purple hair on its end that she had used so many times to tickle Randall and eventually make him cry with laughter; and finally, her mystical, hypnotising lavender eyes, the colour of which Randall had never actually been able to get over.

He sat down next to Zephyr, feeling all the anger inside of him wash away, and smiled. "I love you too."

The others had grown impatient and some of them had left, but the few remaining lit up with joy as the sign on the shop's door was turned around to state 'Open'. "Finally!" some of them exclaimed, somewhat happy.

"Sorry about the wait, gents, but I had a little chore to do."

"So you'll get on with telling the story?" Needlman asked hopefully. Randall waited a moment before answering.

"Yeah, sure…Just don't tell Zephyr, alright- she isn't too happy about all of this. Actually, scratch that- don't tell _anyone_, okay?" Randall couldn't take any risks- just as long as Mike and Sulley and, indeed, Zephyr, didn't know a thing, there wouldn't be any problems, which was exactly why Randall had sent Zephyr off to bed, persuading her that she needed some rest. He didn't like betraying her, no, but revenge still dominated his mind, and after the little meeting that morning, he was all the more driven.

It was only a matter of time…


	9. Home Truths

Chapter 9- Home Truths

Dust swirled up into the air, circling like leaves on an autumn day as something disturbed the abandoned toys beneath the bed. A little boy, no older than six or seven, was led into the room by his mother, whining that he wasn't tired and therefore didn't need to go to bed. His mother answered that it was late- nearly nine o' clock- and that he should do as he was told. Brushing back a lock of wavy, auburn hair, the lady lifted up the covers, (which were decorated with numerous blue boats sailing on a white ocean) and tucked her son into bed. She kissed his forehead and smiled.

"Now, Tommy, go to sleep."

"Bu…bu…" The boy pointed downwards worriedly, looking up at his mother with wide eyes.

"There's nothing there, 'cept for a few old toys and some dust-bunnies." Randall listened to this sentence with resentment; why couldn't kids clean under their beds, for pity's sake? It made trying to get back to the Monster World a hell of a lot harder since, instead of just having to deal with being in a confined space for a torturous length of time, he also had to stop himself from sneezing and coughing. His throat tingled as he took a deep, soundless breath, and he swallowed.

"Bu' Mummy!" the boy whimpered, screeching slightly at the predicament of his mother leaving the room without checking beneath the bed.

"This is getting silly," his mother replied, rolling her eyes. "There's nothing there!"

"MUMMY!" Randall, only a few inches below the bellowing child, winced. "MUMMY!" Tommy called again, tears welling up in his eyes. He kept saying 'mummy' relentlessly, gripping onto the side of his bedcovers and shaking it up and down as he yelled. "There're scary things there! There are, there are, THERE ARE!"

"Okay, okay, shush," his mother whispered, looking behind herself; her husband was meant to be fast asleep in the next room- he had just had a very long day and felt like going to bed earlier than usual- and at this rate, he would be coming in to wonder what all the commotion was about. "I'll check for you, alright? But you're six years old now, Tommy; you should be beginning to grow out of all this 'monster' rubbish. She kneeled down, lifting up the bedcovers that hung over the mattress's edge, and sighed at the sight of a few old, forgotten toys and some scarily large dust-bunnies.

Randall held his breath.

"See? There's nothing there." Julia gave her son a stern glare. "Now go to sleep." She walked out the bedroom door, making sure to leave it slightly ajar so as to let a shaft of light from the hallway lamp spread over the bed, and walked down the hallway, wanting to check on her husband. As she went on her way, she slowed a little, taking a small piece of paper out of the back pocket of her jeans, and fingering it thoughtfully. It had the number of a psychologist on it- a number that she wasn't willing to dial just yet.

Randall turned back to his usual shade of purple and opened his eyes. He felt ever so relieved- the last time someone had caught him in their child's room…

He shook these thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on the plan. Patterson was in about the same position he was in except for being a house along. They had tried nearly all of the houses in the neighbourhood, hoping for a Scarer to come through one of the closet doors doing what Scarers (at least, most Scarers) do best.

This bed was by far the worst. Randall felt like retching at the sight of a half-eaten beef burger barely inches away from his upper left arm, and by his other side was something that the lizard-monster could only identify as a pile of brown sludge topped with a frog's leg. Sure, that didn't make any sense at all, but he would rather think of…whatever it was as a pile of brown sludge topped with a frog's leg than applying the other ideas he had. There was also a distinct, musty smell under there. Trying hard not to breathe in, Randall moved a few objects- toys and such- away from his torso as to give him a little more dearly needed space, and shook his head.

Tonight was just another one of those nights, wasn't it? Another one of those nights where Randall would wait and wait and wait until he would eventually fall asleep and when he would wake up in the morning he'd have horrible cramp down his left side. Yeah, he could feel it. Like all of those other wasted hours spent under children's beds, this evening was to be unsuccessful.

Then, right on cue, there was a scream. But this scream seemed muffled, distant- which was exactly what it was. Randall felt like just suddenly crawling out from under the bed, but he felt that it would be best to see what Tommy was going to do, since it wasn't actually Tommy screaming.

The boy sat up, (Randall knew this because the under-layer of the bed above him lifted up slightly) and then slowly slipped out of the warm protection of the covers, (and, once again, Randall knew this because of movement of the under-layer; this time it was raised slightly) shuffling across his room carefully and peering around the doorframe. Randall stuck his head out from under the bed, relishing the fact that he could now breathe in air without a whole bunch of other not-so-nice things going inside of him in the same way, and blended into the background. The scream had stopped and Randall could hear the babbling of humans. He followed Tommy as he went to the next room along- his younger sister's room- but stopped at the doorway of this smaller space.

"Shush, Terrie, there's nothing there!" one voice said- that of Julia. Another, lower and male, was a lot more stern.

"This crap is really bugging me now, so shut the hell up and let me get some sleep!" The man stormed out of the room, nearly knocking Randall over, and leapt down the stairs, obviously opting for sleeping on the sofa instead. Terrie had begun to blubber.

"Daddy just wants to get some sleep, that's all honey." Julia lifted the blonde-haired girl up, also taking hold of Tommy's hand, and led them into her own bedroom. Terrie's pig-tails continuously swirled around like propellers as she was carried- the girl was now wide-awake and panicking.

Randall snuck into the room as the others left, keeping himself invisible as a precaution. He looked at the purple closet door longingly, feeling disappointment settle in his stomach. He had been so _close_…

Staring at the golden doorknob, Randall imagined his own hand reaching towards it, gripping its shiny, smooth metal, twisting it roughly and opening the door to reveal a Scarefloor at Monsters, Inc. And he would leap through it, finally free…Of course, he would have to tell whoever the Scarer was at that station to keep the door activated so he could go and fetch Patterson, which had been, in all honesty, the only real hitch in their otherwise well-oiled plan.

He didn't try the door. Maybe it was fate or something, but somewhere in his extensive mind a little voice told him not to. And before, when he had ignored his conscience, things had always seemed to turn out for the worse, so he therefore decided to do something new. After a final, long gaze at the door, Randall turned and strode out of the room. Everyone was settled now- Julia and her two children were sound asleep, and her husband had finally managed to relax downstairs on the sofa.

Randall felt a slight pang of hunger shoot through his stomach, and so slowly climbed up a wall by the stairs rather than actually going down the stairs themselves- they creaked like the metal man from the Wizard of Oz- carefully pawing his way down. His feet fell down onto the ground softly, and he took a left, heading straight to the kitchen.

It was a small kitchen, designed for convenience rather than style, and was, at this time, dark. The kitchen led straight onto the main sitting room where the children's father was sleeping, and so Randall was sure to take his time and do things properly. Cautiously, he reached forward to the fridge's peeling plastic handle and opened its door, his pupils growing small at the sudden burst of light. The fridge was nearly empty- a great disappointment to Randall, since humans seemed to nearly always notice any food that went missing in a half-empty fridge compared to completely forgetting what they had bought in a full one.

Suddenly, a few rooms along, the family's dog began barking. It growled and howled, causing the man in the next room to get up, swearing and spitting. Randall watched, intrigued, as the man entered the room in which the dog had been making such a fuss, and quickly ran out again, screaming and wailing. The dog, of course, didn't shut up.

This room was a spare bedroom- not slept in- and was the only room in the house that Randall had thought not to explore. He also saw no point in waiting beneath _that _bed, since as there was no child in that particular room, a portal for the closet wouldn't have been created. He had just stuck his head through the door one evening, gave the room a once-over and decided that this room was of no use to him. Tonight, this theory was to be proved so wrong it was practically ironic.

There came another scream, a little more high-pitched than the man's, and a low, stern voice. Randall couldn't make out what was being said, but he was incredibly curious and knew that at some point that evening, he would find out. Taking his time considering the dog, Randall stepped forward, gritting his teeth. His past experience with dogs hadn't created the most pleasant of memories, so being careful was his top priority at that moment. The dog's barking stopped abruptly only a second before Randall peeked around the door, and there was a bit of a scuffle from within. This made Randall have doubts about whether or not entering this room would be a safe or sensible thing to do, but he figured that since a lot of decisions he had made in his life were as far from safe and sensible as Sullivan was from clever. (This thought, inevitably, made him _really_ want to grin and scowl at the same time.)

Slowly, slowly, slowly, he pushed the door open, his eyes blazing with such hope never seen before in such a withheld monster. The voices he heard from within carried on as usual, signifying that they hadn't noticed him, and so Randall stayed where he was, in perfect view of the two figures before him. He would have to hurry up though- the rest of the family would probably be down in less than minute upon hearing what the father had to say about what he had seen- or what he _thought_ he had seen.

There was a distinct lack of light in this room, and so the couple could not be seen very well apart from their outline. From what Randall could make of them, one was quite short with the other a little taller, and one had spikes lining their back- the taller one. The other had a hood of some sort that was quickly rising and falling with shock.

"The dog's dead, so go get on with it, alright sugar? There can't be any delays- the boss is already climbing the walls coz of that incident, so you'd better be on your toes."

"Well after that, I'm not sure I even want to be working for him anymore!" the second replied in an uptight whisper.

"You gotta be kiddin' me sweetheart- no-one wants to work for that tyrant! The guy sure needs some therapy."

"Okay, you go and recommend that to him while I risk my life for someone that I don't give a bleedin' DAMN about!"

"Guess the boss isn't the only one who needs therapy, huh sweety?" The taller one, his voice rumbling, turned to open the closet door. "You just relax and do your job. Nothing bad can come out of this, nothin'!"

"Excuse _me_, but don't you mean nothing bad can come out of this for you! Because I was almost killed by that animal thing just now, and I bet the second I get going, you'll be sitting down in front of your illegitimately paid wide-screen TV relaxing with a beer in one hand and the phone-number of a prostitute in the other, and you won't even give me a second THOUGHT!"

"Hey, hold your horses darlin'- firstly, I got a lotta work to do when I get back, and secondly, you're not meant to know about that TV, right?"

"Oh, whatever!" The second of the two, who Randall had decided was a girl, strode towards an open window at the sounds of human voices. The first, leaning on the door sleazily, grinned.

"Nice one, toots." He opened the door, revealing a poorly-lighted room beyond, and grinned once more. "See ya later!" The girl pulled back a curtain, letting the streetlight's glow wash over her.

Randall had two choices at this point. He could knock the spiked monster over in a dash for the door and make it back into the Monster World, back home, and fulfil the longing in his heart that been settling there for months. Or, he could stop the girl in her tracks, and fulfil the other longing in his heart that he didn't even realise he had.

He waited one more second, willing the spiky monster to go through the door. As his eyes darted to the other side of his vision, checking up on the girl, he could see that he was half-way out the window. This was it- if he didn't do it now, he would miss the rare opportunity of changing his luck.

Randall jumped out of the shadows, his eyes glittering.

"Zephyr, wait!" The monster in the door gasped at Randall's sudden appearance and quickly stepped through the barrier between the Monster World and the Human World, slamming the door behind him. Satisfied that Zephyr had acknowledged his presence, the lizard-monster turned to his side, leaping towards the door that had only just been closed. He was too late, and as he swung it open, all that was revealed was an inky blackness highlighted by some baseball bats.

Randall sighed. Had he made the right decision, abandoning freedom for, dare he think it, a _girl?_ He turned around, gazing upon her shocked face.

Why bother even asking the question?

"Hey…Zephyr, what are you doing here? What's going on?"

"…Randall…?" The lizard-monster stepped forward, squinting at the light.

"What was all that about-risking your life…?"

"None of your business."

"But-"

"NONE – of your business, alright?" Randall had never heard Zephyr talk so sharply before, and as he noticed that she was trying to squeeze out of the window once again, he strode forward and grabbed her arm, baring his teeth.

"Oh no," he growled- the shock had faded fast- and pulled on Zephyr's arm as she gasped silently. "You're not going anywhere until you explain what the heck's been going on."

"Let's just get out of her first, huh?" Zephyr replied, sounding slightly nervous; Randall could be very intimidating when he wanted to be. "It makes sense," she continued, bartering. "We'll be able to talk without any distractions, and I promise I'll tell you everything." Oh, how many times Zephyr had promised Randall she would tell him everything…And yet, once again, he forfeited, giving in to her soft, hopeful lavender eyes. He nodded, and slowly let go of her. "This way." She slipped through the half-open window, turning back behind herself to make sure Randall was following. He struggled trying to get through the gap- he didn't have the incredibly delicate figure that Zephyr had- but the sound of approaching humans egged him on.

The two of them quickly slithered into the lush greenery, walking straight on for a good two minutes to make sure that no-one had followed them. Randall soon stopped in his tracks as they reached a reasonably-sized clearing, holding Zephyr back.

"We'd better stop; I can't go too far otherwise it'll take forever to fetch Patterson." Zephyr's eyes widened as she swivelled round and gawped at Randall.

"Patterson! The _GIT…_!"

"You…know him?" Zephyr halted, slowly realising how she was acting.

"I…acquaintance…not really well or anything…high school…"

"You went to high school with him? I'm guessing you weren't the best of friends, then."

"Well, I…He was okay back then, I was fine with him, but then we got the same job at the same company-"

"And things changed." Randall shrugged. "Hey, at least you can blackmail him with, 'you've changed since high school, how could you, you used to be so nice,' etc. With _my_ enemies…They've always been annoying idiots."

"Who?"

"Look, no-one, it doesn't matter. I'm more concerned about what you're doing here, and don't say that it's none of my business because you promised me you'd tell me, and I just can't believe you'd break a promise like that." There was an awkward silence in which the burning smell of trust lingered.

"I can't tell you everything," Zephyr began softly, "simply because I'm involved in one of those organisations that if I started spreading news around, I'd loose more than my job." Randall nodded. "So…fire away."

"Why are you here?"

"I've come to…to find Patterson."

"And what's he doing here?"

"He's researching the habits of Humans."

"In the middle of a swamp…?"

"He's not the only one- we have monsters dotted about the entire Human World."

"Mm-mm. And my I ask why?"

"No."

"Thought so. So," Randall said, looking down at the ground and folding his arms, only looking back up as he continued talking, "who was that other guy, in the Human's house? The one that kept calling you 'sweetheart'?"

"Oh, him? He's just the boss's messenger boy, and because of that, he thinks he's some kind of a big-shot."

"And what do _you_ think of him?"

"To me, he's the equivalent of that giant walking, talking peanut you see on TV that kids worship by wearing pants with pictures of him all over it- loud, obnoxious, and annoying."

"A peanut."

"Yes, well, to be more precise, a walking, talking peanut."

"Okay, a walking, talking peanut."

"Yes."

"Well, I can't say I know what you're talking about from experience since I haven't been in the Monster World for quite a while, but I think I'll just take your word for it."

"How long have you been here, then?"

"Years. I'm not really sure."

"And I guess you've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get back?"

"Yep."

"Well, here's your chance. You see, I know the next section of doors to be operated, so I know the quickest way to getting back, though it'll take a while to get there."

"Why don't we just wait for some doors to be used here?"

"Oh, of course, you haven't been hearing the news in the Monster World lately!" Randall blinked.

"No…"

"Ah. Right, yes. Well, basically…" Randall gave Zephyr a scrutinizing look. "Basically, nearly all the scream-collecting companies have shut down because of the threat of Human invasion."

"The Humans know about the Monster World?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"How?"

"Well…That's another reason why we've got guys like Patterson on guard." Zephyr gave Randall a second to get over the shock before carrying on. "So, only a few areas of the Human World are being used at a time, and I know the next place to be used is a place called England."

"How-"

"Can't say."

"Okay…I…" Randall took a step back. "Are you making this up?" Taken aback by this question, fury rose up inside of Zephyr.

"I've come here to get your butt back into the Monster World, and you think I'm making this up? Talk about ungrateful. Slime-ball." Randall noticed something.

"No, you didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"You didn't come here to get me back home, you came here to find Patterson."

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

"I think you're lying."

"Randall…!"

"And who's the 'boss'?"

"What-"

"You said that that other guy was the boss's messenger, so who is he?"

"I can't say, alright-"

"This is a whole pack of lies…! Ever since this conversation started, you've just been weaving this web of, to be completely honest, bullshit. And I thought you cared." Randall shoved Zephyr aside, pushing some leaves out of his way, when he felt his tail being tugged.

"Randall, wait! Randall! I'll tell you everything, please, just wait!" Randall went on relentlessly, pulling forward nevertheless. Zephyr kept trying to hold him down, but he had a size and strength advantage over her, and this was having its effects. "Randall, you'll die, ya hear me, YOU'LL DIE!" Finally, the lizard-monster stopped, glaring at Zephyr with fiery eyes.

"What are you talking about?" he growled, giving the girl one last chance.

"They're coming to kill you, I swear!"

"_What_!"

"The boss's henchmen- you keep ruining his plans, so he wants done with you once and for all!"

"…Plans…?"

"The machine, when you were kids…The machine Cy built…"

"How did you-"

"You've _got_ to believe me," Zephyr gasped desperately, "because I care about you SO much and…I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you…" There was a pause.

"Where's England?"

"Psst. Psssssssssst." Patterson turned to his left at the hissing sound coming from…somewhere. He moved a few toys out of his way, his hand slipping on an open pack of cards, and shuffled forward, the bedroom window coming into clear view. Randall was sitting on the window ledge, head resting on hand, looking very nonchalant. "Took ya long enough." He slipped down into the room, holding out a hand, reaching under the bed. "We gotta get out of here before the kid catches on, and don't worry- he's downstairs raiding the fridge.

Patterson took Randall's hand and emerged from under the bed, covered in dust. "Why are we leaving so soon? Have you found an active door?"

"Technically, yes, but we're not going through it since it closed before I could do anything. No, instead, a friend's gonna take us somewhere she can guarantee has activated doors. C'mon." They both crawled out the window, falling to the ground below, Patterson looking bewildered and slightly frightened all the while, but as Randall helped his friend up off of the ground, all of his questions were answered.

"Zephyr Stefani? What on earth are you doing here?"

"I'd like to ask the same, but, to be honest, I don't give a damn. All I really wanna say is that I know how to get back into the Monster World, and that I'm _gonna_ go back into the Monster World, and if you wanna come with me, you follow me and you trust me, alright?" Patterson thought long and hard before giving in.

"Of course."

"Randall's already agreed, haven't you Randall," Zephyr said as though talking to a child, "so I guess I've got the go-ahead, hmm? Though, you know guys, the journey to England isn't going to be easy. We've got a week to get there until the doors are used, and I'll tell you now- the reason we're going there rather than some other place that's closer is because going somewhere closer inevitably means either getting there within…" She looked up at the sky. "…three hours or so, or getting there and then waiting a couple of months before a door's activated. Therefore, England is the only place at the moment that I'm willing to go to."

"So…" Randall started, a question arising. "What's the rest of the Monster World doing for energy without scream?"

"They have reserves, just in case."

"And how long-"

"No-one knows exactly, though approximately, we've got about nine months, which is why we're trying to confirm the fact that the Humans aren't invading- we'll be able to get the scream companies started up again and get the energy rollin' in." Randall nodded.

"Yeah…I know what it's like to live in a place with no scream. It's hard, but it's possible. At least, for _them_. Personally, I don't think the rest of the world could cope without scream. They're too stupid." Zephyr smiled as she led the way to the closest road.

"You said it." She looked about herself. "Now, all we gotta do is hitch a ride and get out of this dump…"


	10. Sickening Sights

Chapter 10- Sickening Sights

As he was flung around the back of the lorry, Randall furiously tried to find the answer to how he had managed to get himself in this situation. Every answer, so far, boiled down to it being all his fault- if his conscience hadn't interfered and told him to stick with Zephyr, or even Patterson for that matter, he wouldn't be there, having startlingly heavy boxes thrown at him from every conceivable angle.

He saw another coming his way, and ducked, the cardboard brushing his fronds. In the shadows metres away from him, he could just make out Zephyr's face breaking out into a smile.

"Close one, huh?" she said softly, only giving Randall a second's notice before having to duck herself.

"Why this lorry?" Randall complained, his eyes focusing on Zephyr, trying to make out her stance in the darkness. "Why not some other lorry in which the driver knows how to friggin' drive?" Zephyr shrugged.

"Don't blame me- Patterson was the one who chose this vehicle. I must say though, if we hadn't got on this one…"

"Yeah, yeah, we wouldn't have got a ride."

"And we need to get there soon, y'know."

"But at that…whatever-you-call it…"

"Petrol station?"

"Yeah, well, we were nearly caught! Don't you think that was a little _too_ close for comfort? Hmm?" A box landed heavily on Randall's tail, making him wince theatrically.

"Not really," Zephyr said, thinking back. "I've been in worse situations." As a reply, Randall rolled his eyes.

"Tell me about it. And how the HELL can _he_ sleep through all this!" he exclaimed, eyeing Patterson who was snoozing in the corner.

"One of the miracles of nature, I guess." Their conversation ended there, and Randall returned to brooding. It really HAD been close at that petrol station, but since there didn't seem to be anyone else around, getting on this lorry seemed the brightest thing to do. Patterson seemed especially eager to hop aboard; whether it was because he wanted to get a move on, or just get some shut-eye was a mystery to Randall. Nonetheless, he still trusted Patterson more then he could ever trust Zephyr, simply based on their past. She hadn't changed a bit- even at the idea of being caught and withheld by humans, she still managed to sustain this aura of calmness about her; an aura that would only disappear at the most desperate of situations.

"Hey…" Randall said, suddenly thinking. "Do you actually know where this lorry is headed?"

"Sorta. It's going in the right general direction, and I know the company and where its warehouse is- been there before- so I can practically guarantee you that if this lorry's going somewhere, it's going to be going to that warehouse."

"How do you know the company? You must've been here for a while, yet by the sounds of that conversation between you and the-"

"Look Randall, just don't interfere, alright?" Zephyr sighed. "You don't wanna know." Holding his hands up, the lizard-monster backed up.

"Fine, fine, maybe you're right, maybe I don't wanna know. I'm just curious."

"Too curious for your own good."

"Yeah, well when you find the girl that was involved in dealing with illegalities with your own brother, you wanna find out what those illegalities are."

"But you don't give a damn about your brother!" Randall nodded, admitting that she was, indeed, right.

"True." There was a pause. "But I still wanna know."

"Oh, just keep your nose out of things for once in your pointless life, will you!" Then came a terribly awkward silence. Randall didn't know whether to apologise or be angry, and Zephyr was surprised at her own outburst. "Hey, look ou-"

"Nope, don't wanna hear it- gotta keep my big fat nose out of your life-"

"No, look _out_!" A large stack of boxes that had been wobbling perilously behind Randall collapsed as the lorry turned to the left. The boxes fell as one, and Randall could only manage to look up for a second before they plummeted down onto him. His whole figure disappeared beneath the cardboard, and Zephyr hurried forwards, shoving boxes out of the way and trying to get to Randall. Eventually, she found one hand, then another, and finally, some fronds. A dazed looking lizard-monster gazed out at the three Zephyrs before him. "You okay?"

"Get me out of here and I might just give you an answer," he replied wearily, closing his eyes. Despite all of this, Zephyr had noticed that the boxes didn't seem to be continuously moving now, and she could feel the lorry slowing down.

"I think we're nearly there anyway," she whispered, suddenly realising how close they were to the humans. She hefted up a few boxes, double-checking that Randall was okay, and then crawled to the other side of the lorry, arousing Patterson from his extraordinarily deep sleep. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, and nodded to Zephyr when she pressed her finger against her lips. Rising and falling slowly, the flaps of skin either side of her neck revealed her anxiety.

The two of them crawled towards Randall and, huddling together, Zephyr explained to them what they must do now. "Okay guys, it's gonna be a bit of a risk, but when the humans slide open the back door, we'll knock them out. I know how these operations work so there should only be two of them, and since their job also includes taking the packages inside without any help, we shouldn't have to take anyone else out. You two got that?" They nodded and braced themselves, Randall growing more nervous by the second; he couldn't completely rely on his shifting skills at this point, since when the boxes toppled over, they hit his head where the humans with the shovel had attacked him previously, and no matter how much time would go by, it would still smart.

The others had stood up, fists clenched, and so Randall tried to get to his feet too. He felt uneasy and incredibly dizzy as it was, so doing so would probably make things worse, but he really didn't want to look like a wimp in front of Patterson and Zephyr. Especially not Zephyr- with her subtle humour, she would probably never let him live it down.

A second later, human voices were to be heard. It sounded like two males having a joke, yet one was gradually increasing in decibels- he was coming closer. Then, there was a stiff click (Randall cringed- when they were at the petrol station, it had been incredibly hard to turn the latch that opened the door. Fortunately, it had not been locked, though why it hadn't been was beyond Randall- maybe the humans _wanted_ others to steal their belongings. Or maybe they were just stupid.) and slowly, very slowly, the door rolled up and light flooded the lorry's interior. The man gasped at the sight of these creatures, but that was all he had time to do as Zephyr leapt forward, claws unsheathed, with a quick screech. Her viciousness shocked Randall as he watched her give the man some very strong punches, and scratched him unmercifully. Patterson was unperturbed though, and stepped out of the lorry to see where the other man had got to.

As soon as she was sure the human was unconscious, (or worse) Zephyr narrowed her eyes at Randall.

"Not coming down? Thought you'd like a piece of the action."

"Piece of the action? Have you been trained to kill anything that moves or something?"

"No, because I wouldn't kill the people I like and so, to be completely honest, I would've killed you by now." She walked in the direction that Patterson had, squinting at the rising sun, and followed the sounds of a struggle. Randall walked close behind her, still reeling, and resisted having a good laugh at the sight that was revealed to them.

On the ground lay another unconscious human, (this one with a most disgusting beard) but what provided the humour was what had happened to Patterson- he had somehow been flung up onto the bonnet of the lorry and stood there, shaking, a piece of the man's t-shirt dangling from his mouth. Seeing someone usually so poised and elegant suddenly become such a rough and ready fighter was quite funny, especially for Randall who had always admired Patterson for his restraint.

"Human flesh tastes nice, doesn't it, Pat?" He immediately spat out the cloth, looking insulted.

"I did not harm a single hair on that creature's body, I assure you!" Randall and Zephyr synchronically raissed their eyebrows.

"Uh huh," Randall began, turning around and observing the building before him. "Sure. So…" His forehead (well, the bit sort of behind his eyes- Randall didn't really have a true forehead) creased. "this is 'Homer's Honey House', eh? Please, tell me, why have we come to a 'honey house'?"

"It's not a honey house," Zephyr started, helping Patterson down and facing the building herself. It was old and in need of some serious restoration. Weeds had sprouted in between cracks in the concrete, and many windows of the massive warehouse were cracked and shattered. It was a dark brown and grey building, incredibly depressing, its exterior overrun by large trees and bushes. The sign stating 'Homer's Honey House' was missing several letters, and the once bright yellowy-orange paint had peeled on almost every surface. "It's an explosives house."

"Explosives?" Randall scoffed. "Right."

"Go on then, open a few of those boxes. And what you'll find isn't going to be a collection of kids fireworks, oh no. For these guys, playtime is _over_."

"Christ, you sound like something from a James Blonde movie. Enough with the dramatic…ness." Nevertheless, Randall went around to the back of the lorry and grabbed the closest box he could find. As he ripped it open, Patterson peering over his shoulder, his eyes widened.

"My gosh," Patterson said breathlessly. "These boxes really _do_ contain explosives- and of the highest quality, by the looks of it." Randall looked up, calling out to Zephyr who had strode up to the main doorway of the building.

"How do you know all of this stuff?" Zephyr ignored him, staring up at the large red doors before her and thinking. Pat and Randall soon joined her, and Pat was the first, surprisingly, to try the door. A little keypad to the left-hand side of the door had rows of numbers up to twenty and was obviously a security device, and when Patterson put his weight against the door nothing happened.

"Zephyr?" he beckoned her, letting her step forwards. Forcedly, she punched in a series of numbers and turned a little rusty latch located beneath it, tried the door, and smiled.

"Ladies first." Pat refused to enjoy the joke.

"How _incredibly _humorous."

"Randall?" The lizard-monster was staring pretty intently at Zephyr, a questioning look bopping about his features. "Hello?"

"How _do _you know all this stuff, huh? You must've been here before, you must've. But what do you-"

"Look, it's a good place to stay for a few hours, get some rest."

"And I thought we were in a hurry." Zephyr shrugged.

"I misjudged the time. C'mon, there's no point standing around here- let's get inside." Zephyr led the way, Pat following closely behind her and Randall lagging behind. He still didn't feel one-hundred percent ever since getting in that lorry, and his hunger was getting to the point of being painful.

The inside of the building was downright creepy. From going through the main front door, the interior opened up into three sections- one smaller middle division which was a reception of sorts, complete with welcome desk, and another two to the left and right of this. The left had been boarded up, leaving only the right to be seen. The reception area was littered with random pieces of paper, and as dimmed rays of light squeezed through the murky windows high above, the group slowly made their way forwards, heading towards the only open door. The floor was as dirty and abandoned as everything else, and an unearthly yet faint howling was to be heard flowing through the building.

The next room on, when the three of them managed to get into it, climbing over broken bits of furniture and plastic, was bigger than they could ever have conceived looking at it from the outside. There was a row of angled windows on one side, and directly below yet slightly more towards the centre of the room, multiple copies of the same large structure formed a line the entire length of the place. To Randall, the whole atmosphere of it seemed too familiar.

Dotted about were large, metallic tubes with alien-like markings along their sides, and as the lizard-monster headed forwards in curiosity, with a bit of trouble he managed to pick one up and identify it as being a crude form of scare canister. He turned back around to look at Zephyr, and only then noticed the large amounts of explosives on the wall behind them. He began to panic.

"What IS this place? What's going on, Zephyr, what's going ON!"

"Randall, Randall," she ushered him, repeating his name calmly, over and over, "relax, please Randall, c'mon. Relax." He calmed down, Pat staring at the two of them intently. "Okay, there's something I haven't told you. I'm so sorry, I just…I couldn't, because I knew how much your job meant to you."

"Right now, any memories of my job mean nothing. Just tell me what it is, Zephyr. Just tell me."

"Okay…" She took a deep breath. "When you were…exiled…things changed. James Sullivan had discovered something that would revolutionize the scare industry."

"Revolutionize the scare industry? And let me guess- he did this by accident?"

"Yep." Bitterness rose up inside of Randall.

"I work for months, no, _years_ on end to revolutionize the scare industry, and I get exile, and he does NOTHING and he gets big bucks, fame and glory."

"Yep."

"Great. So, tell me, I'm dying to know, what big discovery did he make? Hmm?"

"Laughter."

"Laughter?"

"Laughter."

"…Laughter…."

"Yep. Laughter- which is ten times more powerful than scream."

"…Ten times…You're kidding me…" Randall said breathlessly, reeling and muttering to himself.

"Nope. Laughter." He swallowed. This couldn't be happening. After everything he had done, after all of that work, SULLIVAN gets the big pay-up! It couldn't be possible!

"…So…" Randall whispered, trying to move onto another subject. "…So what does that have to do with a scare…laugh…whatever station in the _human _world? And- and the explosives?"

"That is something I can't tell you. I'm sorry." She said these words so sincerely that Randall just had to believe her. He moved on once again- back to the subject he was trying to hard to get away from. "I know you're in shock- I don't blame you- but I'm telling the truth. Sullivan struck gold. There aren't any more shortages. Everyone's happy. That is, until the humans try to invade."

"…Invade…?"

"Yep. All over the news, it was. But that's another story for another time. I've probably told you too much all at once; I'm sorry. You're gonna be okay, right?" Randall nodded mutely, an array of emotions he didn't even know existed welling up inside of him, merging and separating, making him feel sick to the stomach. Adding all of this to the pain he was already experiencing would create a very unhappy situation for Randall. He needed to sit down.

Patterson, by this point, had wandered off to find somewhere suitable to get a bit of sleep, and had settled down in a corner of the room. There were large sheets, dirtied by grease, by the looks of it, hanging up and giving them a bit of protection and confinement, and he had crawled beneath them, only sticking his head out to summon the others.

"I have found a most suitable place for us to reside in for the time being. Come, join me- I'll share out the rations that remain." Randall literally gagged at the idea of food and hugged his stomach tightly, lowering his head. Searching the place for a bucket or a container along those lines, Zephyr ran over to a scare station, picking up something that resembled a plant-pot. As she jogged over there, she observed the peculiar design of the stations, so startlingly different from the ones in the Monster World. Their use, too, was more gruesome than any monster would enjoy imaging, and laying her eyes on them made her want to join Randall. Catching herself day-dreaming, Zephyr shook these thoughts out of her mind and focused her attention on Randall. He was now breathing heavily, eyes tightly shut and figure hunched.

"Hey Ran, in here." Zephyr pushed the pot in front of his face, and he grabbed it, retching violently. Patterson watched in concern and protection under the canvas, giving Zephyr a worried look for a moment as she signalled to him to try and find a source of water. He nodded, knowing his way around the building, and began his trek to the far side of the room where a pair of crumbling, rusty taps were waiting. "That's good, good; get it out of your system." Randall was now throwing up violently, not even stopping to breathe, and his complexion had turned a ghostly shade of white. There were many reasons for this- the pressure on his body to survive in such poor conditions, the lack of clean, good food and water, the shock of the news that Zephyr had informed him of- and, all added up, along with the mental strain that Randall had been under, formed an equation which equalled one unhappy lizard-monster.

Patterson was panting by the time he had reached the taps. Taking off the bag that was hitched up on one of his shoulders, he produced a large flask, capable of carrying at least a litre of water. He put this down for a moment to turn the tap- it hadn't been used for a while and was particularly stiff- and put all of his strength into doing so. Finally, the tap began to run, brownish water trickling away though the plughole. A few more turns and the water was gushing and a little clearer. He placed the flask under the flow, letting the water spread over his hands like a second skin, and listened to the rising tone of the container filling. Once satisfied that it was as full as it could be, Patterson screwed its top back on, peering over his back for a second- there was an unidentifiable presence in the room that made him feel as though he were being watched- and placed it back in his bag. He made a note to return to the other two as quickly as possible; he didn't like being alone in that place, no matter how many times he would visit it, and Randall and Zephyr were too far away for comfort.

Randall was now only throwing up every half a minute or so, and had collapsed in exhaustion. He sat on the floor, head bowed, wishing the dizziness to pass. Zephyr watched over him fondly, thankful for his company in such desolate surroundings. She spotted Pat approaching, looking thoroughly anxious, and turned back to Randall to see him heaving. Patterson was almost running, wanting to feel protected- this room was so large and empty, and had an ambience that was not particularly pleasant.

"Zephyr," he wheezed, dropping onto the floor next to Randall. He pulled out the flask.

"Why the rush?" Zephyr asked playfully, a grin emerging. "Afraid of being left alone?"

"No, no," Pat replied, having just gained his breath. "Of course not- just wanted to get this water to Randall as quickly as possible."

"How very noble of you." She grasped the flask, kneeling down in front of the lizard-monster. "Randall? We got you some water." He looked up, swallowing, and took the container with a shaking hand. "That's right, drink up. Just make sure to save a little for me and Pat, eh?" After three gulps, Randall stopped, almost dropping the flask, and grabbed the pot, sticking his head inside it for the last time.

The canvas had provided much-needed shade from the rising, baking sun- half of the windows in the building were smashed and broken, leaving bare sunlight to penetrate the interior of the place. Patterson hadn't managed to get any more sleep because of the nap he had had earlier on- it seemed that he couldn't get to sleep unless he were in a situation in which no-one would ever be expected to get any sleep. Zephyr was also wide-awake, a fear having grasped her. She didn't like this place- never had- and was afraid to rest there. Randall, on the other hand, was sleeping off the sickness. He hadn't uttered a word since Zephyr had told him about the fortunes of his foe, and although he seemed to be in a deep sleep, he also seemed peculiarly restless; continuously moving and turning over, muttering nonsense. He hadn't regained the natural purple of his scales, instead keeping to a consistent paleness. Zephyr was staring at him, and what was scaring her more than anything were the moments in which Randall didn't move or make a noise, simply because, in those split-seconds, he looked dead.

Half an hour later, as the sun rose to its climax, Zephyr crept forwards and shook Randall gently on the shoulders. "Wakey, wakey, rise and shine!" His eyes snapped open.

He was seeing something that no-one else was- that no-one else _could_.

A second passed. Randall blinked as though he had just regained consciousness and struggled to sit up.

"We'd better get going, Randall- we don't want to be late, now, do we?" Nodding mutely once more, Randall sat up properly and took a few steadying breaths. "You okay? You were throwing up like a…waterfall, but not a waterfall- a pukefall." He half-smiled, and with a croaky voice, said "thanks."

"Really," he continued slowly, "what happened last night? I don't remember a thing."

"Well, it wasn't really night-time. More like early morning. And, you threw up. A lot."

"That's…weird. And we're…" A rush of memories zoomed to Randall's brain, and everything that Zephyr had said came back to him like a boomerang returning to its owner. He sighed, disappointed and resentful once again. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Great."

"And how are you feeling?"

"Apart from a splitting headache and this weird, bitter taste in my mouth, not bad."

"Good. Now, let's go." Crawling forward, Zephyr peered around the corner of the sheets, her eyes widening in shock. She then, very quickly, shuffled back to where she had been sitting previously. "Or maybe we could stay here." Patterson narrowed his eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"We can go, but I think it'd be best if we just wait for those humans to leave first."

"H-humans?" Zephyr nodded.

"Yeah." All three exchanged panicked looks, although Zephyr, who seemed only a little worried, gave Randall a quick glance only for a second.

"Does this mean I can get more shut-eye, coz, to be completely honest, I feel crap," Randall asked, talking in a hushed voice.

"I thought you were 'not bad'?"

"I only said that because I got myself hyped up and ready to leave."

"Makes sense. Yeah, sure, knock yourself out." Randall lay down once more, curling his figure up into a little ball, and rested. He would've asked what exactly the humans were doing there, but the heaviness of his head made him choose comfort over knowledge.

Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn't stirred but also hadn't been able to get to sleep, and so just relaxed. The humans were still around- he could hear the kafuffle muffled through the canvas, and Patterson and Zephyr had begun to talk quietly.

"I thought these guys were coming around later," Zephyr was saying, sounding a little annoyed.

"I thought so too, but that's Humans for you- completely and utterly unreliable," Patterson replied in his posh accent.

"The sooner they demolish this place, the better. I don't even want to think of a bunch of other Humans discovering this joint and asking questions like Randall is. If they ever find out what's going on around here…"

"They'll find out as soon as Randall will- never."

"Don't insult Randall's intelligence- he might be a scaly, but his IQ's through the roof."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that nonsense?"

"Yes." There followed an awkward silence, in which some more bangs and shuffling sounds could be heard from the Humans.

"Alright, so he has a fair brain upon his shoulders. But as long as we don't reveal any information to him, he could be Monstein and not be able to work out what has been arranged between the two worlds."

"Hmm. Yeah. I guess. I just…"

"What?" Patterson asked sharply.

"I like Randall. I find him…refreshing. And I hate lying to him."

"But you will continue to do so, or forfeit your life to the cause." Zephyr shook her head.

"I wish I hadn't got into this mess. No, I wish _Cy_ hadn't got me into this mess. I wish…" Zephyr stopped her brooding and looked Patterson in the eye. "Do you think Cy will ever tell me about my past?"

"I can't guarantee anything- of course not- but surely he must have a conscience of sorts. And, if he does, he will one day tell you, or die primed to burn in hell."

"I guess."

"I _know._"

"You sound certain."

"I do not know Cyrus Boggs very well, but, by gathering what I have heard of him, I can presume that he is quite a heartless fellow. Heartless fellows _always _have a deeper conscience, which they mostly ignore, but when it comes to things that truly matters to them..."

"We'll have to see about that, Pat- Cy's more than just a 'heartless fellow'. He's pure evil."

"The Humans haven't made a sound for a good five minutes now."

"Let me have a look." As Zephyr peeked out once again, Randall's train of thought became furious, pumping out steam like a hyper monkey spits out pips. How did they know all of this? Why did they know all of this?

What was going _on_?


	11. Housewarming

Hello there! Sorry for not updating for a while- been very busy with exams and such. Thanks for the reviews, and I'd appreciate it if anyone has any critism of my writing; I'm looking to improve, y'know? Anyhow, onto the next chapter!

Chapter 11- Housewarming

Even the wafting smell of pre-cooked eyeballs couldn't deter the intrigued monsters. They clung on to Randall's every word, gasping at shocking moments, 'aah'ing at sweet pauses. Randall, when he got the chance, had quite a knack when it came to storytelling- he could hold an audience in the palm of his hand. There was something about his accent, too, that made listening to the soft vibrations of his voice thoroughly relaxing.

So, when he stopped (again), there were certainly going to be protests.

"That's it? That's all you're gonna tell us- that you went to some explosives place?" one member of the enriched audience cried out.

"Sorry guys, but I can't risk Zephyr catching me telling you this, this _epic_ tale. I know you're all enjoying it, but, y'know, I've really got to get going."

"Spoilsport," another muttered.

"Yep, I'm a professional in that line of work. Now, if you ain't gonna order anything, I'd like you to leave, thanks." Several chairs scraped against the hard floors, and a low, distinct hum ensued.

"But," one called out- a tall, blue fellow that had only just started coming in to hear Randall's 'epic tale', "you _are_ going to tell us the rest of the story, aren't you? Coz, I'd hate to miss out, and I want to know how you manage to get back into the Monster World!" Several others nodded, looking at Randall and agreeing with their friend.

"Hmm," Randall replied in mock deep thought. He grinned slyly. "You'll have to wait and see." Light but defining feet were to be heard coming down the stairs in the room behind, so Randall began to steer the Monsters, Inc. workers out of the door. "Come back soon, but next time, it'd be _really _great if you ordered something, y'know? I mean, this IS a shop/café, and there's no point coming in and out of a shop/café if you aren't gonna buy anything." He was blabbering now, and he knew it, but the single thought of Zephyr finding out this little cover operation was enough to make him cringe. "So, have a nice day and try not to kill anything on your way to work!" He shut the door firmly behind him, sighing.

"Randall! _RANDALL!_" The lizard-monster rolled his eyes to himself, chuckling at the thought that just passed through his mind- _If only I weren't so irresistible_.

Zephyr stormed in the room.

"Where the HELL have you _been?_!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. "I've been worried about you! I don't BELIEVE you just stormed out like that, leaving me to pick up the pieces-"

"Pieces?" Randall said incredulously, quirking an eye-ridge. "What 'pieces'?"

"Well, I…I…You…_scared_ me Randall. I thought you were gonna…"

"What?"

"Nothing…I'm just pleased you're here now." Zephyr stepped forwards, arms outstretched, hoping to embrace Randall, but he retreated.

"I only went out for a walk, y'know. I wasn't planning on doing much else. Bumped into Sullivan and Wazowski along the way- they weren't too happy to see me, could say the same for myself, really- and had a gawp at Monsters, Inc., or rather, what's left of the place. Something's been going on, hasn't it? And you know all about it, don't you?"

"You want me dead, Randall? Huh? Coz if you do, I'll be happy to tell you everything."

"The amount of times you've stabbed me in the back, I wouldn't be surprised if I found I didn't care any more."

"Oh, believe me Randall, you care. You care because…" Zephyr's voice became an emotional whisper. "…I'm all you've got left. No-one else cares about you, and you know it." Randall scoffed.

"Amazing, isn't it- how a relatively sane conversation can be turned, by a woman, into complete mush."

"What do _you_ wanna talk about, then, hmm? You got anything interesting to say?"

"You thought I was gonna commit suicide, didn't you?" Zephyr stared at Randall in shock, not daring to mutter a word. "Here I am, beneath the roof of a shop that I own half of, standing next to someone who means more to me than anything else in the world, satisfied, content, with food on the table every day, friends coming each lunchtime to talk to me, and you think I'm gonna commit suicide. I nearly did, once, y'know."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But I'm not like that any more; I'm too darned stubborn just to give up like that. Hey, if I was gonna commit suicide, I would've done it in the Human World, not here. Not next to the monster that I would hope, one day, to have a real secure…_relationship_ with." Zephyr's face burst out into a smile.

"Oooh, you said the 'r' word! I'm so impressed! And, what was that about WOMEN turning conversations into mush?"

"Zephyr," Randall continued seriously, "you know I'd never do anything stupid, don't you? Because…I know what it's like for everyone around you to die without considering the effect it might have on you, and, I, I couldn't do that to you. Ever."

"I know."

He would stare it every day, for at least ten minutes. He felt he had to, in a way. It started out as a sort of ritual, and ended up being a bit of an obsession.

Sullivan missed Boo- a lot. He couldn't help that, either; he'd see her every day, if he could, but when the CDA found out what Mike had done, building Boo's door again, they were given an ultimatum, which was simply get rid of the door right away or be prosecuted. They chose the first option- it would be terribly bad publicity for a brand-new CEO to be thrown in prison in his first year- but Sulley lived to regret it. The gap in his armchair where he had cut out the fabric for a costume for Boo to sneak into Monsters, Inc. lived as a reminder as to what had happened, and even when Mike had brought up the opportunity of buying a new chair (the two of them were practically rolling in it at that point), Sulley refused. The memories meant too much.

And so he would stare at it every day, for at least ten minutes. He felt he had to, in a way. It started out as a sort of ritual, and ended up being a bit of an obsession.

A sharp knock came at the door of Mike and Sulley's apartment. Sulley went to answer it, as Mike was currently out, enjoying an evening out with his lovely fiancée. Few lights were on in their apartment, which made the whole place all the more creepy- there were dozens of boxes around the place, because the two best friends had only just moved in and hadn't had the time to unpack. The new apartment was only slightly larger than the last, but much more modern, with a shiny, silver kitchen and stainless steel where-ever it wasn't needed. Everything glimmered and shined, everything looked empty and bare and new, and everything smelled of metal. Sulley didn't really like the place- never had- but Mike did, and what Mike Wazowski wants, Mike Wazowski _gets_.

Carefully stepping over some more half-empty boxes, Sulley walked down the little hallway towards their new front-door. Along the way, he spotted a bag of Celia's. This acted as a reminder to the almost fatal argument (well, at least, almost fatal for Mike and Sulley's friendship) that the two of them had had several weeks before, about whether or not the pair should buy a large house and invite Celia to join them. This whole plan would've worked out spectacularly for Mike, having his best friend and fiancée under the same roof, but Sulley was afraid of being the spare tyre, and for the first time in a while, truly voiced his opinion. Mike could be the greatest friend in the world sometimes, but at other times, he could act as though he didn't care about anyone but himself, and this was one of those occasions. He threatened to buy a new place, but rather than have Celia and Sulley live with him, he would instead just invite Celia to join him, leaving Sulley to find a place on his own.

Their friendship had had their ups and downs, but this was something Sulley had never experienced before. There was a real bitterness in Mike's voice; a real hatred in his eye. It was as though he was revealing an entirely new side of his psyche to Sulley, and the furry simply did not like it. But, eventually, they managed to sit down and have reasonable talk about it all. Mike soon revealed what had been bothering him; Sulley's aloofness. They hadn't been talking since all of that had happened with Boo. They hadn't been _connecting_. And, for the first time, Sulley admitted something he never thought he would admit. He sat down and said that although Boo meant the world to him, and he couldn't feel any worse about not being able to see her again, there was something else bothering him, and the fact that this something else was bothering him, bothered him.

He began to talk about Randall. He said that throwing Randall through the door was wrong. And he told Mike that he hated the Cyclops for even presenting the idea in the first place.

"_You_ were the one who threw him threw that door, not me!" Mike had exclaimed.

"I wasn't thinking straight- so much had happened, we got Boo, I was caught up in the moment!"

"Oh, sure, yeah, fine, blame it on me then!"

"I'm _not_!"

"Since when did you care about ol' Lizard-Boy anyway? You hated him as much as I did!"

"Now THAT, Mike, is where you're wrong." Mike then stopped in his tracks. "I _never_, I repeat, NEVER hated Randall. He never did any thing worthy of hate. Sure, he wasn't the nicest or chattiest or kindest of monsters, but he wasn't evil."

"Wasn't…Sul, what's WRONG with you! He tried to harm BOO!"

"I know."

"So isn't that as good an excuse as any for him to be called 'evil'? C'mon, Sul, you've GOT to be with me on this one!"

"I just…I know he was horrible, but…maybe we should've just handed him over to the CDA."

"No- the CDA would've treated him too well. He deserved banishment, Sul, and you know it!"

"And that's why we handed Waternoose over to the CDA, is it? Because they would treat him well?"

"Stop being stupid, Sulley, of course not!"

"So why did we?"

"Because, because when we caught Randall, well, we were in the door vault already, weren't we? It was just…more convenient. And we needed to be in the simulator room to catch Waternoose, so…that's the way it worked out."

"And you've never felt not even a little bit of guilt for opening that door and letting me throw him through it?" Mike had then gritted his teeth, but finally relaxed.

"No, Sul, I haven't."

"Then I believe you."

The conversation then went on to Mike and Sulley arranging an agreement- that the two of them would live together, without Celia, until either the two were to be wed, or Sulley managed to find his own soul mate. But the origins of their conversation- Sulley's worries- still lingered in his mind. What if Randall could never be able to return to the Monster World, or worse- what if he were dead? But Sulley had to admit that the whole point of banishing Randall was so that he wouldn't be able to return, so worrying about him not being able to return _was _pretty ridiculous.

Unfortunately, no matter how many times he thought that same logic through, over and over, he still worried. The only good thing that he could think of that came out of all of this worrying, in fact, was the security of knowing that he did indeed have a conscience.

The knocking was getting louder by the second.

Sulley muttered, "I'm coming, I'm coming," under his breath, shaking his head and wondering what the world had got to. He twisted the doorknob unsurely, checking that the lock-chain was done up just in case, and opened the door. He gasped.

Cy spotted the chain immediately and stepped back a bit, preparing to charge. The confident, menacing grin on his face was all Sulley cared to notice before quickly slamming the door shut, but it only closed a few inches more, stopping just before it could manage to close properly with a dull thud. The furry looked down and saw that a bundle of magazines had been wedged between the door and the door-frame, and was scooping down to push them out of his way when Cy rushed forwards, flinging his body at Sulley. The chain snapped, and Sulley, strong as he was, had been caught by surprise and was knocked down onto the floor. He sat there looking incredibly dazed and frightened as Cy glared at him, his yellow eyes flashing.

"Why hello, Mr Sullivan. I must say…" The lizard-monster shut the door and locked it with his tail. "…that it is almost a pleasure to meet you." He chuckled. "Almost, mind." Passing the furry, Cy looked about himself, raising his eye-ridges as he stepped into the main living room. "Nice digs. Never liked wooden floorboards, though- always preferred the feeling of carpet between my toes." By this point, Sulley had got up and was advancing towards Cy slowly, standing as tall as he could. It was obvious that this monster was a relative of Randall, but the reason behind Cy's visit was rather the opposite of what Sulley was expecting.

"This is about Randall, isn't it?" he said softly, already having forgiven Cy for his dramatic entrance. Cy turned around to face Sulley, shrugged half-heartedly, and took a seat, stretching his lengthy, reptilian body across the sofa. He gazed around the room nonchalantly, his eyes finally settling on Sulley. "I understand if you're upset, but he needed to be punished-"

"Oh, right, yeah," Cy said, understanding why Sulley was acting so apologetic. "You banished Randall, right?" Sulley nodded slowly, confused, as Cy waved a hand in the air calmly. "Hey, no problem. Matter of fact, you did me a favour- my little bro was getting in the way. And can you _believe_ he went and built the Scream Extractor? I mean, come ON- the guy hates me, yet he uses MY designs to make it big in the world! Tch." An expression of glee came over his face. "And he has the nerve to fail. You just gotta love the guy- he's got a brain as big as…as…well, it's a helluva big brain, and he manages to fall for Waternoose's 'work for me, build the machine and I'll get you all the fame and glory you ever wanted' offer. For a while, I was jealous. I was jealous of his intelligence. But you gotta hand it to the guy- he can screw up _anything._" He added in a sour undertone, "like he screwed up my life," before standing up and confronting Sulley. "I don't give a damn about you banishing Randall- as I said, you did me a favour- but what I DO give a damn about, is you ignoring us."

"I don't know what you-"

"Oh, yes you do." Cy got closer, narrowing his eyes. "The threats? The phone calls? Sullivan," he continued, his charismatic personality shining through, "you ever wondered how the press seem to know every little thing that happens at Monsters? Huh? That's us. And you've probably been scratching your noggin trying to figure out what EVERYONE wants to figure out- why? Why does the apple fall to the ground, why does that shelf slope at a fifteen degree angle, why the HELL am I living with such a cold, heartless, big-mouthed GIT!" His voice softened. "Why do I feel as though someone's stalking me? The obvious answer to that is, 'because someone's stalking me', but that isn't exactly an answer that you wanna hear, now, is it? It's the truth, though. I'm gonna tell you why- because there's a, um, _company_ who happen to be interested in the future of Monsters."

"No!" Sulley interrupted, panicking. "No-one's going to buy me out! Not yet!"

"Anyone talk about buying you out? Relax- we just wanna use Monsters for a more exciting purpose." Cy pleasantly put an arm around Sulley, looking out in front of him as though there were a glamorous scene before his eyes. "All the Monsters, Inc.'s in the world- how many of 'em, thousands?- give us all the energy we need. Well, really, it's the human kids, isn't it? Their screams. And that's what we monsters call a 'satisfying revenge'; they kick us out of their world, we make their kids scared for all eternity. But for some people, this isn't enough. Not at all. I mean, seriously, giving their kids a bit of scare? That's IT! Christ…" He sighed forcefully. "That's what a lot of monsters out there thought- privately, of course- 'is that it?' And it was. For a while. And now, thanks to Mr Perfect Sullivan here, and his sidekick, BlabberEye, we haven't even got THAT! Actually, scratch that- we're not punishing them any more- we're REWARDING them! Rewarding them for years of pain and suffering and, and EMBARRASSMENT! And when they tried to invade us, after all of that…! It's ludicrous!" Cy calmed, his little rant over. "We don't want them to invade. Of course we don't. No-one does. And that's why the SoHH was formed- the Society of Human Haters. And we…" He leaned in even closer to Sulley, who had been listening in awe. "…we are gonna do something about them- the humans. We're gonna sort them out- once and for all."


	12. Deals

Sorry it's been so long since I last wrote anything! It's just, I've been so busy with schoolwork and stuff...the usual excuses, you know. And I'm sorry that this is a pretty short chapter- I organise my storyline into chapters before I write a single word of the real thing, and this is how it came out, so...there ya go!

Chapter 12- Deals

Once again, barely a customer had stepped foot into Storm in a Teacup that morning. Randall was sat on a stool, bored stiff, waiting for the inevitable- lunch. It was the only time, really, that he and Zephyr made any profit, and it was barely enough to keep them afloat. In some ways, though, this didn't bother Randall- he had lived in poverty several times in his life, for several different reasons, so he was, in a sense, used to it. Whether or not this made Randall even more desperate to earn some big money was a question that even he was unable to answer.

His eyes kept flickering from his favourite spot on the floor to the clock a metre or two above. He sighed. A train of thought hooted, travelling across his mind, interrupting his mission of keeping an eye out for customers. The driver of this train was, inevitably, Zephyr. There she was, smiling away, holding a gun towards Randall's heart and offering him a hug at the same time. Utterly confusing- that's what she was- and she revelled in it.

The little bell that was placed to alert the worryingly unsatisfied owners of Storm in a Teacup of any customers and that was slowly becoming covered in a thickening layer of dust tinkled. It looked shocked, as though this wasn't meant to happen. Randall's train of thought exploded, leaving him with his customer, and he tilted his head slightly, peering down an aisle. What he saw made him sit up in attention, and the intricate workings of his mind feverishly got back to business. This was certainly going to be interesting.

"Hello, Randall," Sulley said, looking left and right as though he were expecting several monsters in yellow, rubbery uniforms to jump out at him.

"Sullivan," Randall replied, almost dismissively. Definitely going to be interesting…

"I want to talk to you."

"Yeah, not as though you were ever gonna buy anything, huh?" An edge of frustration came through Randall's voice, and he thought to explain himself, mainly because Sullivan's inquisitive looks were beginning to annoy him. "Business has been slow lately."

"It's a new place, and the locals aren't usually too keen on new places, so I'm sure things'll pick up."

"Let's hope so. You wanted to talk?"

"Uh, yes." Sullivan seemed almost taken aback at Randall remembering the whole point of this seemingly pointless conversation, and so took a moment to compose himself. "I've heard rumours," he said in an undertone, almost whispering.

"Rumours? What about?"

"Randall, I'm not in the mood for this-"

"You're talking to me, you have to be in the mood for a bit of banter, otherwise you might as well get out when you can." The lizard-monster shrugged. "It's true."

"You haven't changed, have you?" This really made Randall's blood boil. Changed? _Changed?_ He'd changed more than Sullivan or anyone else could ever believe. But he kept his temper on a leash (barely), knowing that he'd get his satisfaction soon enough- IF this little chat with Sullivan went according to plan.

"Just get on with it. Rumours, right? I don't mean to jump the gun, but you're talking about rumours that, apparently, I've been spreading about what exactly happened in my absence, and why I even had an absence, right? Hmm? Okay, well this can be sorted ever so easily- you let me help out at MI, I shut up." Sullivan blinked. He didn't know what to say- Randall had just taken the words of his mouth, and since he was SUCH a smooth talker…

"Umm…Yeah. You're…right. But we'll have to agree on terms-"

"I'll come Friday afternoons and all day Saturday- when I'm free; Zephyr'll be able to watch the shop. I won't bother anyone- I'll be a good little boy, keep myself to myself, just get on with the work, which I presume will mainly be construction…?"

"Randall…I just…I don't understand."

"What? What don't you understand?"

"This is a loose-loose situation for you- you have to stop sullying mine and Mike's names, and work at MI. Why would you want to do this?"

"I thought I made myself clear earlier- I…I miss MI. It's true. And having those idiots come every lunch, demanding that I talk till I loose my voice...not exactly great fun for me, huh?"

"But you said so yourself that business is slow- isn't having those guys come in a good thing?"

"What, you think they actually _buy_ stuff? You gotta be kidding me!" Randall sighed. "Anyways, I need something else to…_stimulate_ my mind. Need to keep busy. I've spent the better part of a couple of centuries thinking about MI- as a kid, I dreamed of being a Scarer, and as a Scarer, I tried friggin' hard to enjoy my job as best I could to forget being a kid. Worked for a while, but then Waternoose had to ruin things, huh?" A concerned look spread over Sulley's face. He was ever so slightly resentful towards Randall, but the overpowering feelings of guilt that he had been experiencing for such a long time now threatened to banish this resentment, as it were. He knew how hard it must be, therefore, for Randall to talk about people like Waternoose. He took a deep breath and held it as the seemingly unperturbed lizard-monster nonchalantly continued. "Can't blame it all on him, though. If I hadn't been so naïve…I was practically a kid, and I was desperate for the spotlight. Look where it got me- with a shop and girl of my own. Not bad, don'tcha think?"

"So you consider…what's her name?"

"Zephyr."

"You think of her as your girlfriend, then?" Eyes narrowed, Randall scoured Sulley's expression, eventually relaxing.

"I dunno yet," he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck slowly. "So…about me helping at MI…?"

"I can't see any problems with the idea- _if _you're willing to work hard."

"You know me, Sullivan; when _aren't_ I willing to work hard?" Randall half-heartedly smiled, struggling to keep his relief contained. "I appreciate it."

"It's the least I can do. Now…" It was Sulley's turn to smile, and he broke out into an almost full-blown grin. "Let me have a little look around this shop and see if I can help bring you some profit."

"No need, Sullivan-" Sulley interrupted.

"I insist." As Sulley went around the corner, searching the shelves for something cheap, cheery and maybe even useful, Randall smiled to himself. The big, stupid furry had fallen for the act- the lizard-monster knew he had got him hook, line and sinker the second he had mentioned Waternoose and that look of guilt came across the CEO's face. Now all he had to do was get into MI and carry out the remainder of his plan. But a glimpse of doubt made its way into Randall's mind.

It had all been easy- maybe _too_ easy…There was the possibility, Randall concluded, that Sullivan might've accepted his offer simply because he knew of what the lizard-monster planned and wanted to put a stop to it.

_Nah…_Randall's conscience said, shaking its head. _He's too dumb to figure out anything like that_. In that second, Randall was convinced- I mean, it wasn't as though it was Sullivan's BRAINS that had got him the position of CEO, was it? Nope, just pure luck.

Hell, if RANDALL had had the luck that Sullivan experienced…Boy, he'd be rolling in it! Life would be so easy…

But, of course, that wasn't the way it was. For Randall, life was probably the hardest thing he had ever had to put up with, and by far the longest- all of those people out there complaining that life is too short must be maniacs! Then again, if any of them managed to catch even half the amount of luck Sullivan did, their lives are probably very cushy.

Sullivan left the shop, having bought some weird wind-up hula monster thing, (only 4.99- buy one, get one free!) leaving Randall all by his lonesome once again. This wasn't to last long, though- Zephyr had peeped her head round the corner, grinning madly, and proceeded to prod Randall. He raised an eye-ridge.

"_So_ mature." Zephyr giggled. Sometimes she loved the way Randall reacted to the most normal of things, prodding being a perfect example.

"I just got off the phone to my friend," she started, batting her eyelids. "Claudia- you remember her?"

"She's another make-up attacking handbag maniac, right?"

"But of course!" Randall had never been able to work it out- Zephyr could be a sombre, almost depressive individual at times, but the company she made seemed the exact opposite. However, it did provide an explanation as to why Zephyr had been so cheery lately. "She wants me to stay round at hers for the weekend, help her with packing all of her stuff up."

"Packing?"

"Yeah, she's moving house. It's this weekend. Oh, and I'm not asking permission from you; I'm telling you." Randall shrugged. If he and Zephyr were ever to make anything out of their relationship, at least he could practically guarantee that she wouldn't be what all men dread of their other halves- clingy.

"Sure, whatever." Zephyr nodded.

"Nice to know that you care."

"Always willing to put the effort in."

"So, I'll just go pack my bags."

"It's Wednesday, deary."

"It pays to be prepared."

"Sure." Zephyr ran up the stairs to their flat, trying to conceal her excitement but bounding up the steps nonetheless, leaving Randall to man the shop. He didn't really know what to make of this whole 'sleepover' thing, but it meant that he'd be able to work at M.I. that weekend without too much disturbance. It didn't really bother him that they'd have to shut up shop for a couple of days- the miniscule profit they would've made was of a lesser value than spreading his knowledge around M.I.

Randall was sure to enjoy this weekend.


	13. Return

I'm sorry for the long wait- I've been VERY busy this summer...Not. To be honest, I've had a boring summer, but, for some reason, writing hasn't been on top of my schedule. I guess it's a sort of semi writer's block. But, here's the next chapter nonetheless.

Chapter 13- Return

Once again, the building Randall had seen almost everyday for five years loomed up in front of him. In the past, it had been impressive, but it was now barely more than a pile of rubble, and the efforts of Monsters, Inc.'s employees over the past several months were struggling to show. Randall, contrary to what he had convinced Sullivan to believe, was not returning to his old work place to help out, but was actually hoping to bring the company down to an even lower status than its current one.

Today, rather than joining together with past co-workers to build up M.I. to its former glory, he was, instead, aiming to shake its foundation even more.

There was, of course, an element of risk in Randall's mission on many levels, and some of these factors were very close to putting the lizard-monster off altogether. He'd have to walk into a room where many monsters who considered him evil and a generally nasty piece of work could see him in full view, and their reaction to him was what made him have second thoughts about 'helping out'. Because, not only would they throw abuse at him, battering his ever-low self-esteem, but the idea of these dim-witted sheep who would do as everyone else does seeing Randall's state…The thick, long gash that began just to the left of his middle frond and that continued on past his left eye, just catching it, and ending up above his upper-lip was noticeable to say the least, and was accompanied by several other almost nauseating scars that were all proof that Randall hadn't exactly had it easy the past year or so.

And seeing the, at first, disgust, then eventual satisfaction on everyone's faces may have just been too much for the weary lizard-monster, if another desire hadn't urged him onwards- that of watching his utmost enemies fall at his feet.

Revenge.

It was considered an evil action by most, but Randall's reasoning was quite plausible- they had obviously enacted revenge on him, and had made him suffer undeserved pain, so he therefore had a right to reap his revenge on them. And, what was more, he was determined to enjoy it.

The double doors of the front entrance portrayed the Monster World's most well-known power company's troubles wholly- one of the door's glass had been shattered, the remaining shards that hadn't fallen on the ground hanging dubiously, and the other door, though having managed to keep its glass in practically mint condition, had been covered in graffiti where the wood was. The words written were illegible, unfortunately for Randall- he would've liked to read a youth's opinion of M.I.; it would've cheered him up a substantial amount to know what a terrible job Sullivan had been making of the company.

He strode over confidently to the one remaining door, his state of mind being that he should start as he meant to go on. But this was easier said than done- behind this door were dozens of monsters waiting to relish Randall's downfall. It was a frightening thought.

Shaking slightly, Randall stepped inside. Few noticed him in the first couple of moments, but as one of the busy employees turned to stare at Randall, the others followed suite.

He took a deep, nervous breath, and did what he had done for so many years- he hid his emotions amazingly well and walked through the company without so much as a care in the world, it seemed. Taking big, meaningful steps, he pushed aside monsters with nothing but blazing glares, head held high, going straight for goal.

It seemed to take several hours for Randall to reach the dust-covered reception, and as he arrived, he exhaled, feeling as if he had just landed on a safe, small desert island after having been swimming in the humongous ocean- a habitat that he was an alien to. The face he was greeted with was also a sort of welcome home, though the expression currently present on it said otherwise.

Celia's single eye was as wide open as it could be, and she stared openly for a few moments before remembering her manners. Yeah, she had always been a 'good girl'. She tried to busy herself, pointlessly shuffling some papers in front of her, but Randall's demanding gaze beckoned.

"I'm a volunteer," Randall said simply, remaining calm. Celia nodded, but didn't verbally answer. "So…Where do I go?"

"Oh," Celia said sharply, hating the fact that Randall had just queried something; she didn't want to have to answer. Many questions were running through her mind, of course- Randall had been 'away' a long time, and that scar running down his face was less than pleasant. "Um, your name isn't on the rota here," she babbled, shuffling ever more papers. "M-maybe you should go to Mr Sullivan's office and he'll help you…"

"Referring me to the boss, huh?" Randall said. "But I wouldn't want to use up more of his important time, now, would I?" Randall had a point, and Celia knew it, but she also knew that Sulley would want to have a little…_chat_ with the dubious lizard-monster before he was to start any construction work, just in case.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Randall shrugged, hiding his excitement at the idea of another little encounter with 'the boss'.

"So," he began off-handedly, "how's things goin' between you and Mikey-boy, huh?" Celia was caught unawares by this disturbingly casual question, though it was really more the way Randall had put it forward than the question itself that made her take a small step back, shrinking further behind her desk.

"Uh…" she stammered, blinking rapidly. "Um, we're married…" In the second syllable of 'married', Celia raised her voice by a semi-tone or two, and she therefore sounded as though she was asking a question herself. Randall, who was never one to miss a beat, noticed this instantly, and jotted it down in his expansive brain for later- it might signify that things weren't going too well in Wazowski Towers.

"So you're Celia Wazowski, then, hmm?" Randall continued, leaning in. Interrogating people was one of his many specialties. "Any little Wazowski's about?"

"Just the one." Celia made sure not to divulge too much information- Randall was, in her opinion, far from trustworthy.

"Nice. Never liked kids myself, though- wouldn't have the patience to sit there for hours, willing them to shut up…Nah, ain't the life for me. Anyhow," Randall said, a sudden, weird sort of ray of happiness suddenly being emitted from his direction, "better get to the boss and waste some of his valuable time." The lizard-monster straightened up, having been leaning on the desk, and turned his neck.

As he had predicted, everyone was staring in silence. Those who had been following the story muttered to those closest, passing on the information frantically, whilst others stood in fear. Randall braced himself and began to make his way to Mr Sullivan's office- if he did as he was told, maybe, just maybe, Sullivan would be stupid enough to believe that he had turned over a new leaf.

Celia wanted to call out after him, to ask what had happened in his absence, but she knew Randall well enough to realise that now, in front of everyone, was not the best time to do so. But although she had known him for longer than most and knew him better than most, she had never been terribly close to him, and would rather keep her distance than get involved with whatever mess he had made for himself.

Yeah…That Randall was a nasty piece of work…And no matter how curious Celia was, she knew that it was for her entire family's sake that she left well alone.

As Randall briskly walked out of the main foyer and to the beginning of a string of corridors, his panicky strides soon slowed to a curious waltz as he took in everything that his eyes were observing.

The numerous newspaper articles that had followed the near 'Human invasion' had been accurate in at least one perspective of the story- Monsters, Inc. had been utterly destroyed. Half of the walls were barely standing, and patches of the ceiling were missing. The grandeur of the primly painted corridors had vanished, and, as Randall neared Sullivan's office, he noticed that most of the exaggerated portraits of past C.E.Os were either cloaked in dust, broken in half, or missing entirely. The penultimate painting was one that Randall paused to stare at for a few moments more than the others. The numerous eyes of the subject, along with his slightly curled mouth and grandfatherly nature, were more deceiving than even _Randall_ could be, and that was really saying something.

His heart beat strongly, firmly, _angrily_, and he felt his temples boom with blood.

He hated that bastard so, so much.

Randall purposefully trod on the painting, his heart yammering away faster than ever, and moved on, only bothering with a glimpse at the current C.E.O's portrait- he felt sick enough without laying eyes on a picture of some cheap chump who had managed to thwart him out of everything he had without even meaning to. And anyway, he was about to meet the guy personally in just a few moments, and he needed all the strength he had to make this encounter as natural and illusory as previously.

The door, situated at the end of the corridor- a prime spot for those who wanted to loose weight and walk those extra couple of steps to the vending machine- was spotless. It made Randall almost chuckle to see this, though why was completely beyond him. Maybe it was the time he had spent in the swamp, alone; he had had to develop some sort of sense of humour, otherwise he surely would've gone mad.

There was also the possibility that he had gone mad, but he didn't want to think about that.

Randall tried to calm himself down- there was a time and a place to rant and rave and act entirely unconventional, and this was not it.

He rapped his knuckles on the door, not bothering with the fancy intercom system that had been fitted, and waited. Incredibly, the door was so perfect that he could practically see his reflection in its white paintwork. The scar glared out at him, as per usual. Suddenly, his clone stepped back to be replaced by James Sullivan himself.

"Hello, Randall." The furry turned around. "Come on in." Randall did as he was told, taking his surroundings in, in a millisecond. Boring, conformist-type office, stacks of paperwork everywhere, a few select photos of loved ones…The only thing different about this office to any other was that, pushed to the walls were piles of rubble, and the window behind the 'impressive' C.E.O. was cracked. "Take a seat."

"I'm fine standing, thanks." This cold reception knocked back Sullivan- from their previous encounter, he had begun to believe that Randall was on the path to forgiving him.

Oh, how wrong he was.

"If you're sure…It's nice to see you here, volunteering."

"Just doing my bit for the community." A five-second silence followed this, and a glimmer of impatience crossed Randall's face. "Look, if you're ready to tell me where I should start, I can go and get on with it-"

"Well, you see, Randall, I wanted to have a little word with you." The word 'about…?' floated in the air. "About…" Sullivan took a deep breath and dived. "About your behaviour." Randall nodded; he expected this. "Now, I know there have been some problems in the past-"

"It's simple, Sullivan, so you don't need to go into some long-winded speech about how I've never really got on with other people anyway, yadda yadda yadda," Randall said, gleefully interrupting Sullivan- the furry may have had more authority in the company, but at this point, Randall was in charge of this conversation, and it was going to go where he wanted it to. "It can be sorted with a bargain- they treat me normally, I stay outta their way. I just wanna put some bricks into the walls, slap some paint on, hammer some nails in; I'm not in the mood for conflict, and I won't be for a long, long time. Got it?"

Well, Sullivan hadn't expected that. It was quite a humorous situation, really, and Sulley had to admit that he had forgotten that Randall had an explicable way with words that he had, in secret, always admired.

"Yes. You're um, you're free to go. Oh, and you can go to Laugh Floor F- there's quite a lot of work to be done there." Randall comically saluted Sullivan, ignoring the use of the phrase "_Laugh _Floor F", and strode out of the room, shutting the door behind him with his tail.

He chuckled inwardly.

Randall loved it when things actually went his way.

------------------------

The state of Scare Floor F- or, rather, Laugh Floor F, came as a shock to Randall. Obviously, he knew that Monsters, Inc. was in a bad state, but seeing the room that he had spent hours in most days in such a terrible condition brought home everything that had happened to Randall. In some ways, he felt partly grateful to the fact that he was in the Human World as all of this happened- it meant he couldn't be held responsible for any of the goings on.

But, as Randall scanned every inch of the Laugh Floor in wonder and gentle fear, something rather shocking was brought back to him- an image of his little lair where he had housed the somewhat infamous Scream Extractor. Could he bare to go down there again?

Randall decided in that moment, that whether or not he could bare _not_ to go down there again was more of an appropriate question.

Needless to say, many heads turned as Randall leisurely strolled across the room, stopping to look at his Scare Station- now Laugh Station- which held a somewhat sentimental value to him. It had changed radically; there was now some sort of new, more modern device to hold the doors, and the keypad had been replaced by a stand with a small remote control upon it. It had always been an idea of Randall's to invent an improved version of the Scare Stations, but it seemed as though someone had cut him to the chase.

Disappointment settled in his stomach, and evermore memories flooded back to him, especially of the few, threatening days leading up to his exile. Thinking about one of the worst moments of your life is never a pleasant experience, but when one can't even manage to compare said moments to a more happy recollection, it makes one think back and question one's own life, and the point of it all. If Randall was never truly happy- and there had been very few occasions when he had been- then why carry on living? Why suffer any more?

Randall had two, reasonably valid motives to continue with his life- firstly, there was always a chance that things may get better- _always_. And, secondly, he was just too stubborn to stop now. He had come such a long way, and, sure, every day had been a struggle, but he was still there, wasn't he? And he had certainly left his mark on a few people's minds, that was for sure.

Though there had always been that little flicker of doubt in Randall, which had retained the right to be pessimistic, and it had certainly grown over the last few years.

"Randall…?" Randall whipped round, snapped out of his thoughts, to be confronted by a little red monster wearing glasses and peering up at him with his three eyes. "I-I didn't know you were, you were h-helping out here...!"

"Well, I am." …_So live with it._ Randall had always felt remarkably bitter on Fungus's behalf- the little guy may not have come up with the whole idea of the SE, or been too enthusiastic about it, but he had helped with its creation yet hadn't taken responsibility for the punishment. It was therefore sickening to have to lay eyes on his face.

"G-good, n-nice to get out, hmm?" Fungus was practically shaking, and Randall had to admit that one thing he had always enjoyed out of intimidating other monsters was their reaction- it made him feel big, proud, in charge, and since he hadn't been any of those things in comparison to his life, it was nice to be those things to someone.

"Sure. Hey, do you know where I can actually get started, y'know, with the building…" The lizard-monster trailed off at the sight of three remarkably large monsters leering down at him.

"You're the guy telling that story, huh?" one growled in a deep, gruff voice. Randall nodded slowly, his eyelids narrowing.

"And?" As the conversation continued, others gathered round. Randall simply folded his arms defensively.

"Aren't you going to get on with it, then?" Suddenly, everyone seemed very eager to hear the rest of it- it had obviously spread around the factory like wildfire, and what was even better was that Sullivan was still blatantly oblivious to it all. At least everyone had retained some basic common sense not to tell the boss what was going on, since if they grassed Randall up, there'd be no more story to tell, and this little tale was getting very intriguing indeed…Anyway, there would be time for telling Mr. Sullivan what was going on later.

"As long as everyone's up to date." Randall grinned. Just like sheep, they were, and dumb enough to be following the big, bad wolf…


End file.
